Reconstruction of a Death Eater
by Les Dowich
Summary: Book 2 in the Snape Cycle. Set in Seventh Year, Snape is discovered and badly injured. Draco rescues him and gets help. A mystery is solved and Harry gains a great advantage in the final battle. SSRL, DMHG, HPGW, NLLL.
1. Chapter 1

**Reconstruction of a Death Eater**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters created by Ms Rowling, much as I would like to. I do not make money from these stories, despite the need.

**Rating: **Always a tricky one, definitely PG-13 edging to M, depending on where you live and what your country's rating scale is.

**Pairings:** SS/RL mild slash there. HG/DM very het and rather cute. HP/GW 'Aw' factor present. NL/LL the odd couple, but good.

**Synopsis: **Covers seventh year and the final confrontation between Harry and Voldemort. Severus is found to be spying and dealt with most severely. He is rescued by Draco and brought to assistance. The secret Snape shares with Professor Dumbledore is discovered and a mystery is solved, leading to a great advantage in the war against evil. Harry and the DA discover a way to gain a little more training time but there is always a price to pay and consequences to be dealt with. Voldemort finally gathers the army he has always dreamed of and sets it against his nemesis, Potter, in his most favoured setting, Hogwarts.

**Warnings:** Character death in the later half, much blood and mayhem as the final battle is written up. This was completed before Deathly Hallows even had a title so any spoilers are purely coincidental and I do apologise. I have not added separate chapter synopsis but I have warned of blood, death or mayhem.

**Table of Contents**

Chapter 1 – Deconstructed

Chapter 2 – Humpty Dumpty

Chapter 3 – Trying to Raise the Dead

Chapter 4 – The Beginning of Understanding

Chapter 5 – New Sides to Old Friends

Chapter 6 – Passing the Trust

Chapter 7 – He's Alive, but Living?

Chapter 8 – Hunter and Hunted

Chapter 9 – Werewolves at Play

Chapter 10 – The Ball is in Motion

Chapter 11 – Full Grown Baby

Chapter 12 – Braving the Wrath

Chapter 13 – Relating

Chapter 14 – Setup

Chapter 15 – The Battle for Hogsmeade

Chapter 16 – Required, More Time

Chapter 17 – Training in Earnest

Chapter 18 – Little Choice

Chapter 19 – Distrust and Diligence

Chapter 20 – Not Tolerated

Chapter 21 – Christmas

Chapter 22 – Like a Double Naught Spy

Chapter 23 – Kung-Fu Fighting

Chapter 24 – Of Course it is Fair

Chapter 25 – Toil and Trouble

Chapter 26 – Childhood's End

Chapter 27 – Real World Looming

Chapter 28 – Consequences of a Year Out of Time

Chapter 29 – Fathers, Sons and… Phoenixes

Chapter 30 – Rebirths

Chapter 31 – Death Eaters at Play

Chapter 32 – Balance

Chapter 33 – Funeral Politics

Chapter 34 – Past, Present, Future

Chapter 35 – Storm Clouds Looming

Chapter 36 – Gathering Momentum

Chapter 37 – Preparing the Way

Chapter 38 – The Best Defence

Chapter 39 – Stepping up the Pressure

Chapter 40 – Know Thine Enemy

Chapter 41 – Hogwarts Besieged

Chapter 42 – First Battle

Chapter 43 – Comes the Dawning

Chapter 44 – Comes the Hosts, Gathering

Chapter 45 – Engagements, Great and Small

Chapter 46 – Lord of the Storm

Chapter 47 – Aftermath

Chapter 48 – Epilogue


	2. Deconstructed

**Chapter 1** – _Deconstructed_

My Lord is good. My Lord is great. My Lord is right. I am not worthy of his attention. All loyalty to the Dark Lord, all hail to the Dark Lord, blessed is the name of the Dark Lord. Mighty is the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord is always right. I am not worthy of his attention. His attention uplifts me and I am not worthy.

The litany! Never lose the litany. Let it fill my mind and buttress my soul, let it build the bricks to protect the essence of 'me'. Feel only the praise, feel only the rightness, this is the way it should be. A servant deserves no better than to be a 'thing' in the hands of his master. Don't feel the pain! Never notice the pain! Wall it out, wall me in. The **PAIN**!!!!!!!!!!!………………..

'_Occlumency demands complete concentration, hold the litany in the forefront of your mind. Use it as a cover to blur your intentions. Wall up the thoughts within the litany and be safe. There is no Pain!_'

Thank the Lord for his blessings and don't choke on the bile. Back up now, crawl if you have to, but walk if you know what's good for you! Do not show weakness or this pack of hyenas will devour you. They smell your blood and your fear and your pain, and they feast on it. Hold it close, sneer at them. Show them how a _real_ Death Eater behaves. Make them realise their own insignificance.

The Death Eater glided out of the dingy cellar and into the night, his mind still safe behind its impregnable walls.

oo0oo

4 am at 12 Grimmauld Place was no less busy nowadays than at any other time of the day. The war had been raging full force for over a month now. _'The Death Eaters have absolutely no respect for decent hours,'_ thought Molly pensively. She couldn't remember the last time she had a full night sleep. If it wasn't people coming and going, it was the nightmares that haunted her. She could probably face a boggart now and laugh at it, all her worst fears for her family had already happened, there wasn't much left that could shake her. _'It was Friday, no, Wednesday, hell, what day _is_ it? I _know _it's September…or is it October now?'_ Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Tonks' head thudding softly on the wooden table as she seemed to fall asleep right there in her chair, not that Molly blamed her. Tonks had definitely been burning the wand at both ends in an attempt to fulfil her duties as both Auror and Order member.

Roger Maxim, an ex-St Mungo's healer, Tonks, Arthur and herself had taken a short break from attending the wounded in the makeshift hospital the old house had become since Sirius died last year. With raids becoming more frequent and indeed more vicious, there was little time to spare for speculation, except in the wee hours of the morning.

For a while it looked as if Bellatrix Lestrange was going to inherit 12 Grimmauld Place, but when they moved Buckbeak and cleaned out his room they found Sirius' Will leaving the house and half his money to Harry. The big surprise was a marriage certificate, a quiet and longstanding marriage to Remus Lupin, who inherited the other half of Sirius' property even though he did his best to refuse it until Professor Dumbledore spoke with him. Since then, the old house had become more than just the Order's Headquarters; it was also the only safe place to hide their injured.

St Mungo's was not a safe place for any Order of the Phoenix members or their families anymore. The Death Eaters had – on several occasions – broken the sanctity of the hospital to brazenly execute vital members. The first time it happened, Roger had tried to stop the Death Eaters and had been badly injured. It had taken weeks for him to recover, and after his convalescence he had tried to go back to work but the Death Eaters had their eye out for him. He had barely begun his first shift when two of the Death Eaters had apparated into the burns ward and began firing hexes at him. Fleeing, he had almost made it to his front door when the whole house exploded from a blasting hex. He had become a marked man, and so he was no longer safe at work or at home. The St Mungo's board had very politely asked him not to come back to work until he was no longer a target, which meant he could not work. A week later Professor Dumbledore had approached him and proposed that he set up a small, private clinic at 12 Grimmauld Place. So now he plied his healing magic over the Order members, and Molly helped him care for them as they arrived….

"…and we've got absolutely no idea where this information is coming from?" Arthur asked wearily.

'_What were we talking about again? Oh yes, the anonymous provider of information about what the Death Eaters were doing.' _She drifted back into her half-awake state

The first piece of information they had received had allowed them to evacuate four injured Order members just prior to another attack on St Mungo's hospital. It had been brought to them by a strange owl no one recognised, and they had almost treated the message as a hoax but – just in case – they had decided to move the two Aurors and two civilian members to another ward far away from the original one. Thank Merlin they had! Twelve of the black-clad bastards had apparated into the Magical injuries ward, casting Unforgivables even as they finished materialising. When they realised the whole ward had been evacuated, they swept through the halls of St Mungo's, indiscriminately blasting anyone too slow to get out of their way. When it became apparent that they would not find their legitimate targets, they had burst into the special ward and finished the job they had started on the Longbottoms sixteen years before, spreading them all over the walls and ceiling in an act of petty revenge. The Aurors under RufusScrimgeour_****_had arrived too late to be of any use once again, and serious questions had been raised in the Wizengamot in relation to where the Head of the Aurory's loyalties lay.

Since then the Order had foiled many Death Eater assaults, saving numerous lives. They were a lot more careful about survivors and how the Order protected them until they were strong enough to protect themselves. In a way it kept the old place humming with company, in another it stretched the Order's resources to the limits, so many bodies to feed and only so much food in the pantry. Thank Merlin for Hogwarts, whose vast kitchens sent a host of supplies every week for Molly to feed the multitudes with. Since the death of Albus Dumbledore, Headmistress McGonagall had continued to support and succour the Order members just as her predecessor had. Sometimes Molly thought Minerva had a better grasp of the dangers of the situation than Albus ever had, but such traitorous thoughts were quickly squashed.

Unfortunately, when the strange owl brought news that allowed them to foil raids, the Death Eaters often went on rampages, killing and torturing innocents, especially the families of known or suspected Order members, Aurors and Ministry employees who sympathised with the Light. Grimmauld Place had become a regular clinic, dealing with all kinds of trauma wounds, from mere scratches to cursed flesh. Molly, as the most constantly present person, was left to bear the brunt of the workload. She had all but closed up the Burrow and come to live at headquarters full time to try and keep up with the ever increasing load. When it became obvious that she lacked certain skills, she had taken a crash course in Trauma nursing with Roger in an attempt to make her more useful. _'Chief cook and bottle washer, that's all I was a month ago…or has it been two months now? Now I am chief nurse as well.'_

"There's no one amongst the Death Eaters we know of that matches the info we're getting," Tonks added, making them all jump a little. They had thought she was asleep with her head on the kitchen table. "It's not complete, nor as detailed as the intel Snape provides but it is always fairly accurate. When it's added to other bits and pieces we manage to glean, it sort of glues odd facts together."

Tonks had been a Godsend with her cheerful manner, wide range of knowledge, Auror training and sheer willingness to do whatever was necessary to help the cause. She had been injured a week ago in an official engagement with a group of Death Eaters in Birmingham. Fortunately, the curse was not fatal and she was nearly well again, strong enough for all practical purposes but not enough to go back to her Auror duties, or at least that's what the Chief Medical Inspector of the Aurory said. It was the best he could do to help out the Order without compromising his own position with the Ministry. As an undercover agent for the Light, the Chief Medical Auror was excellent at passing information garnered when a Death Eater was taken and questioned.

"Whoever it is, the information has been totally reliable so far," Roger mused. "They can't be inner circle, but they know enough to be of help."

"A most interesting supposition…and that is the most interesting cup of tea I have ever seen, my dear."

Arthur's voice filtered into her thoughts and she glanced down, too tired to be astonished to realise she had put both tea and cocoa powder into the same cup. If the truth be told, she hadn't even noticed that she had stood up to make tea in the first place! "Oh, yes, sorry, I was just; well…what month is it?"

"I think it's time you took some of your own advice and get some rest. You're no good to us dead on your feet, my girl. Let's take the chance to get some shut eye while things are quiet." Arthur smiled indulgently and patted his wife's hand, really noticing the black circles and drawn cheeks for the first time. To him, Molly was the most beautiful girl in the world, had been since the very first day he had seen her as a runty first year with more attitude and heart than physical substance. Time and children, war and peace had only added more depth and richness to that perfect vision of a helpmeet. She had only grown more precious over the years until now she was the very centre of his existence – a tired and confused centre perhaps, but still a perfect gem.

"Er, yes, yes, you're right, I can't even remember what day it is. By the way…"

Roger cut her off with an understanding smile. "It is 4 am, Friday the 28th of September. Now get some rest," he ordered sternly then softened his tone, "You're the cog that turns this place, Molly, we need you fighting fit or I'm afraid it would all come to a screeching halt!" Giving them a cheeky grin, he wandered off toward his own room with a yawn so wide Molly could hear the tendons crackle in his cheeks. She smiled indulgently; he would probably be asleep before his head touched the pillow, if he wasn't already sleep walking. Without Roger they would not be half as effective as they had been so far. He was a powerful and knowledgeable medi-wizard who was fully converted to their cause but modest enough not to try and enforce his will on the Order. There had been rumours about Roger, hints that he was not what he purported to be. That there was some sort of deep, dark secret in his background that made him unsuitable for promotion up the St Mungo's ladder of success. The others of the Order had been a little reluctant to entrust their health and very often their lives to his hands, but Molly didn't care for those nasty rumours, ignoring any sly gossip that cast less than a fully supportive light on her friend and colleague. She worked with him every day and had come to trust his skill and knowledge implicitly. In many cases, Molly's unwavering belief in Roger had done more to promote trust in the man and his abilities than any other factor.

Arthur supported her elbow as she rose from the table and guided her to the corridor that led into the main part of the house. Bidding Roger goodnight and closing the door, they meandered down the hall toward the stairs, crossing the entry quietly so as not to disturb Mrs Black's portrait, and headed for the stairs to the upper floors, where the bedrooms were situated.

As they reached the base of the stairs they both became instantly alert, drawing their wands swiftly when an errant breeze stirred the candle flames. The front door was wide open! Two black shrouded figures were lurking in the shadows of the entry hall, the wavering light making them hard to see unless the Weasleys squinted. The shorter had his wand drawn and held firmly in a defensive position, his left arm trying to hold the taller figure up. Before either Arthur or Molly could cast _Expelliarmus, _the figure very deliberately dropped his wand. The wood clattered to the floor with distinct surrender, and he finally gave up the battle to keep his companion upright. Both sank to their knees in a stiff billow of black robes. Again, it was only the smaller figure's arm that kept the taller from hitting the floor face first.

"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Weasley, isn't it? I'm so glad it's you; I had no idea where he was leading me to. He just kept mumbling something about getting back and stumbling forward most determinedly. He virtually dragged me here, even when the spells on the place tried to repel me. I have no idea how he managed to crawl, never mind walk after what the Dark Lord did to him. He should have been dead by now. No one could stand that sort of punishment for so long and still be sane, no one!" There was a slightly hysterical note in the young voice that tried for urban affability and just failed to make it.

All Molly could see through her rising hysteria was two bodies in all too familiar and dreaded black robes, torn and bloodied but still there, right in the hallway of their supposedly secret headquarters. This was not right! The taller one was drooping forward from the waist as the other spoke and now rested his weight heavily on the shoulder of the smaller speaker. The smaller figure did his best to hold his companion up but was losing the battle, his breathing becoming as ragged and as desperate as his tone. Neither was recognisable in their dull white masks but there was something in the cut glass tones of the speaker that triggered a glimmer of recognition. "Draco? Draco Malfoy is that you?"

"He was in the alley outside the meeting hall, just lying there in the mud and filth, muttering to himself and not making any sense at all. He must have crawled in there to hide after he left them all standing in awe! You should have seen what he went through - Cruciatus Curses, a blasting hex - and then he literally walked out, back straight, head held high. It was amazing. I…I couldn't just leave him there, not after all he's done. So, so…. You gotta help him…." At this they both sank to the floor, Draco giving up the struggle to keep his companion from lying on the floor unconscious.

Molly went to go to their aid but Arthur restrained her. "Arthur, for Merlin's sake, can't you see who it is?" she demanded, shrugging off his hold impatiently.

Realisation dawned on Arthur's face. When the light reached his conscious mind, he acted with such affirmation it took Molly totally unawares. Arthur may appear to be a dottery old fool obsessed with Muggle things, but it was his mental acuity that drew and held Molly's love and devotion the most. Striding forward, he knelt by the fallen Death Eater and carefully felt for a pulse in the depths of the robe without trying to move him from his fallen position. He finally located one, fine and thready and so erratic it was almost imperceptible, but there was still life in the man. Even as he let out a sigh of relief, the figure convulsed, all too familiar tremors shaking his frame. Arthur shivered in sympathy. "Call Roger, then put a firecall in to Poppy. _**NOW!**_"

His explosive imperative was enough to wake Mrs Black, and her shrill tones began the usual ranting that was now so familiar that ignorance was an automatic response. Molly absently noted that she really must get rid of the old bat when she had a spare moment, even if she had to remove half the wall to do it. It would be just another small chore to add to the growing list. While her mind was occupied with trivialities, her feet, taking on a will of their own, had her racing down the hall toward the nearest Floo-connected fireplace in the front parlour.

As Molly left she saw Arthur using his wand and casting spells to manoeuvre the now prostrate figure toward the kitchen. _'Why would he be doing that, he's not contagious.…' _She hurried to complete her tasks and arrived in the kitchen with a dazed Roger in tow just as the figure was laid on the table. It was only then that she recognised how mortal it was…. Her gasp was heartfelt and prolonged. _'Oh, Severus, no! Not you, not now!'_


	3. Humpty Dumpty

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters created by Ms Rowling, much as I would like to. I do not make money from these stories, despite the need.

**Chapter 2** – _Humpty Dumpty_

'_**Stand up straight, you unworthy little bastard!'**_

'_**Don't you dare cry; you are not fit to weep in my presence!'**_

'_**If you vomit, you will eat it, I swear! Pig boy, dross, less than dirt!'**_

'_**Call yourself my Grandson? Worthless effluvium of a broken bitch, scrapings of a diseased womb!**_

'_**Faint and I will castrate you; move and you will be broken.'**_

"I will not break, Grandmother."

It was a mumbled reaffirmation of Professor Snape's will to survive, unconsciously promised against the tumble of memory that ran unchecked through his damaged mind.

"What did he say? Did you catch that? Merlin! Arthur, where do we start? There is so much damage, so much physical trauma. Where do we start?" Molly wailed as she looked down on the broken and bloody pile of meat that had been laid on her newly scrubbed table. That this was what was left of a human being after that monster – who bloody well shouldn't be named…ever – had finished with them, was hard to believe. Hard to believe that this scourged and mangled lump had been someone they knew and spoke to regularly. The kitchen table was no place for such a badly injured man, nor was 12 Grimmauld Place, but there was no choice. They didn't dare move him again for fear of losing him completely. And even if they did manage to transport him to St Mungo's the odds were that the Death Eaters would arrive a few minutes later and finish the job their master had started.

Molly bit her lip and picked up her wand, carefully dissolving the heavy canvas Death Eater robe's hood away from the Potions Master's face. He didn't move a muscle, not even his eyelids flickered. Emboldened, Molly touched the tip of her wand to the limp, mangled hand laying closest to her, ready to begin a simple healing spell. Despite the delicacy of her touch, the meat convulsed, the exposed tendons and sinews contracted and twitched, making broken bones grate. An artery on the back of his hand burst, the blood squirting rhythmically onto the scrubbed board of the table. Molly gasped in horror and withdrew her wand immediately.

"Oh Gods! He has suffered the Cruciatus Curse to the point of madness, every nerve and sinew scoured to a fever-pitch of tenseness! If we touch him, he is going to tear himself apart in convulsions," Roger snapped, staying Molly's hand instantly. "We have to get some muscle relaxant potion into him as fast as possible and as much as is humanly possible for him to bear, or he's going to tear himself into doll rags. Merlin knows what mental state he's going to be in, if we can keep him alive long enough for him to regain consciousness. Anyone suffering this much damage is usually reduced to a complete basket case like the Longbottoms were."

"Do you think it's truly hopeless? Do you think he has suffered that much?" Molly asked in despair, disentangling her hand carefully and stepping away. "We… we owe him so much. Personally, I mean. Arthur and I. He saved Charlie's life when he was taken in the raid on the dragon farms and... and he brought the boys home when they were killed last year. Is there _nothing _we can do for him, or are we just going to have to stand here and let him die?"

Roger patted her shoulder. "You know the saying, where there's life there's hope? He's still alive so we had better hope Poppy has some other secret medi-wizard magic up her sleeve."

"Arthur? Gods above!" Poppy Pomfrey arrived in a flurry of ash and exclamations a few minutes later and took a moment to clean off. Then, fully apprised of the situation, she immediately set to work on the injured man without a flinch. With wand held steady, the medi-witch began the series of spells she had learned in St Mungo's from the healers in charge of the Longbottoms and others who had resided in the special ward. She had also learned a few things herself over the years and drew on every ounce of her hard-won skills to suppress her very real upset at the condition of a valued colleague.

The charms were designed to help reduce the tremors and stop the victim's own muscles and sinews from tearing themselves free of the bones as they tightened and writhed under the residual effects of the curse. Ironically, Severus Snape had been one of the pioneers of the technique, drawing on experience he had undoubtedly picked up during the First Voldemort War, although he would not confess to such a thing. It was a very tricky spell to use, much like its maker: too little and it was as effective as pouring alcohol on a house fire; too much and the patient's involuntary muscles ceased to hold tension. Unfortunately, when a heart muscle stopped holding tension, it stopped, and so did the person.

To add even more complications, the spell was cumulative; it could not be reversed. The only way to control the dosage was by adding power to the original spell in tiny increments. Regrettably, you could not cancel the last increment on its own if you made a mistake. The whole spell had to be cancelled completely, which was usually disastrous for the sufferer as the convulsions that had been held in check hit all at once in one giant wave. So it took practice to apply the healing magic in just the right amounts and to judge when to stop administering the charm.

Roger hovered nearby, watching like a hawk as the older woman worked; she continued to cast in fractions of the spell that seemed far too small to him. Severus Snape was all of six feet six inches tall, if he was an inch, and the charm worked on body mass. Roger felt she could have started with a more significant amount, then added in much larger increments at the beginning, but Poppy never faltered in her casting, stopping far sooner than Roger thought she should.

"Will that be enough?" he was forced to ask as Poppy stood back from the bed and watched her patient intently. "I mean, he's quite a large man, you know?"

"Severus is long, that much is true, but he barely weighs in at ten stone, if he's lucky. The man doesn't eat enough to keep a very small sparrow alive, I assure you. Under that forbidding black robe and laser sharp glare there's hardly enough substance to animate a skeleton," Poppy informed him grimly. "I kept nagging him to eat more, but the man lives on his nerves, has done for years. Look, trust me on this one, Roger; he has been my patient far too frequently for me to overestimate his weight. I have been Severus' main medical practitioner for the best part of three decades, and I do know him rather well."

Shaking his head, Roger acquiesced and stood back as the final dose of spell took hold. The hand nearest him slowly uncurled from its claw-like clench, the fingers straightening then curving into a more relaxed position. Broken bone splinters slid through the mangled meat and seemed to be trying to realign of their own accord once the terrible tension in the sinews had been relieved. Obviously the man's own magic was still present and trying desperately to come to his aid even unconsciously. Poppy shot Roger a triumphant smile as she grabbed the nearest bottle of the potion that made up the second line of treatment for the Cruciatus Curse. The potion made sure that the spell's effects were prolonged as long as possible, enhancing and stabilising the fragmented spell into a more harmonious and effective whole. It was not feasible to cast the same spell over the same victim for a further forty-eight hours, so any prolonging of the effect was most necessary.

At last, having waited a full three minutes to allow the potion to do its work, Poppy began cutting away the first layers of tattered and torn robes with an efficiency that spoke of long experience and much practice. Since it was not advisable to move the victim, the heavy robe had to be carefully sliced into small pieces and magically eased away from the flesh. Molly hummed in sympathy when the drying blood made the cloth adhere and the stickiness literally tore flesh away from bone as it came free. Even Poppy winced in unison as a particularly large tear opened wider despite all her care.

As each skeletally thin limb was exposed, the extent of the damage became more apparent and edged closer to fatal. It seemed amazing to the onlookers that such a thin, yellow man could leak so much deep red blood or show so much shredded red meat. Every time they touched or moved him in any way, they caused more harm than they healed. It was absolutely daunting, but there was no choice but to continue. Severus Snape had been punished deeply, thoroughly and extensively: flesh torn apart to expose bones, bones broken and pushed up through the skin, and in the case of one forearm, the meat flayed from the bone with surgical precision. Ironically enough, the only unscratched or untorn piece of flesh Molly could see from her post by the sink was the accursed Dark Mark that stood out so black and evil against Severus' pale yellow skin. It would take a lot of Skele-Gro to put Severus back together again, not to mention muscle knitting, skin growing and blood replenishment potions which would be needed by the bucketful.

"Shall I remove his necklace?" Molly asked the two healers when the thin golden chain bearing a beautifully etched snake pendant came into sight. It was a delicate piece, beautifully made and quite ancient, but jewellery was not really something one would associate with Severus Snape.

Poppy glanced up distractedly. "Yes, that would be a good idea, I suppose."

Molly picked up the chain and tried to find a clasp but it appeared solid. Then she tried to slip it over his head without disturbing Roger's spell but the chain was too short. Finally, she tried to snap the chain but it proved too solid for that. A small crease added yet another furrow to the already impressive frown on her face. "I can't get it off," she muttered in disgust.

"Oh, just leave it," Roger dismissed absentmindedly, fully immersed in trying to contact some part of Snape's conscious mind and failing abysmally. "It's not that much in the way, just push it to one side and ignore it." All three promptly forgot about the delicate pendant almost instantly.

The more clothing they removed the more damage the three person medical team revealed. This was not the work of punishment, this was the result of a sadist running unchecked and wild. It was sickening to see how much damage had been inflicted on the man and, if Draco was to be believed, for no real reason, simply because He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named could. No inch of Snape's flesh had been spared, not even his toes, two of which were broken, the nails missing from both feet and hands. The skin of his chest and abdomen had been systematically sliced open, and only the remains of the tight undershirt he always wore stood between Snape and tipping his guts out onto the floor. A series of _Acclaro_ spells revealed even more damage and trauma as they glowed into life. Internal organs were torn and split, crushed and bruised, one kidney mashed beyond even Poppy's most optimistic will to repair. Neither Poppy nor Roger had any idea of how Severus was still alive and breathing, but Molly thought it might have been pure stubborn contrariness on Severus' part keeping body and soul together.

"Even his heart is bruised and ready to burst at any second. If he does survive this, Arthur, he will never be as strong or robust as he was, possibly a complete physical invalid. _If _he survives, that is - and I don't guarantee his survival at this point. Gods above, I can't even guarantee he will still be breathing an hour from now, not with all this damage. He looks as if a crew of hit wizards with bludgers had worked on him for a few weeks," Poppy sighed and cast yet another spell over her fellow teacher's liver to reveal the extent of the damage and what needed to be done before they could restart function.

One step at a time, she built a picture of the splintered bones so that all the observers could see what was needed to fit them back together, besides infinite patience. Most of the larger bones looked like some three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, and many of the smaller bones were in no better condition.

"His brain is badly injured, too," Roger confessed heavily. "He has suffered a very hard blow to his skull, a physical blow, not a magical blow I think, whose impact shattered the bone in a star pattern from the point of contact outward. Where his skull has been fractured, there is extensive bruising on the brain itself, which is causing pressure to build up. If we can't let out the pressure, then the resulting bleeding will destroy the tissue it is pressing on. Just to complicate matters, he has surrounded his consciousness with Occlumency to hide his secrets, in effect becoming his own Secret Keeper. I have to admit that I am impressed by his sheer strength of mind. Unfortunately, that strength of mind is working against him in this case, and he has slipped into a loop of Occlumency which he doesn't seem to be able to step out of. Even if we can heal his body, I don't know if we can reach his mind. What I wouldn't give for Albus Dumbledore right now! Although not my favourite person, he was the only one I knew of who had either the skill or the ability at the level Severus Snape had reached, apart from perhaps Voldemort himself. Without a true master of the art I'm afraid no one can reach him."

The admission almost made Molly cry out rather than containing her tears to a silent rain down her face. The overall picture was so disheartening, just another blow to add to the many they had suffered over the past year since the Headmaster had been killed. Severus was not her favourite human being, but she had great respect for him as a person. The job he did was highly dangerous, but it had kept so many of their people alive and free. When Fred had been taken six months ago, George had literally felt his pain and mounted a wild, impossible rescue mission which had been doomed to failure even before he had been captured, too. Both boys had been terribly tortured and killed by the hungry pack of Death Eaters before any of the Order could even discover where they were being held. Severus had found out where they had been kept, but the information had been a fraction too late to save their lives. However, he had rescued their bodies and brought them home for burial in the Weasley plot, which had given both she and Arthur a measure of closure over the tragedy.

The shock of the twins' deaths had been so great that Molly had not questioned anything until much later and then, having seen first-hand what a pack of Death Eaters could do to a human being, she began to suspect Severus had done some impressive post mortem reconstruction of her boys. She could still remember the apology he had given her, as if he was personally responsible for their deaths. It had been the first real conversation they had ever had, and she had been struck by the deeply seated loneliness in the Potions Master's eyes that even he had possibly been unaware of.

Almost to compensate for his failure to bring the twins back alive, Snape had managed to get Charlie free when he had been captured by Mulciber during a raid on the dragon farms in Romania, the purpose of which they had never really discovered. There was no doubt Charlie had been tortured severely, his flesh mangled and torn. They had had to spend many days putting him back together again, but at least Charlie was still alive and as safe in Romania with his beloved dragons again as anywhere in their very troubled world. Sometimes Molly wished she could send Ron and Ginny off to Romania to stay with Charlie but they had to go to school especially when the future of Hogwarts was so precarious in these troubled times. A lot of people thought the place should be closed down and the children sent home to their families. Another faction was convinced that a central concentration of magic such as Hogwarts represented should not be left unattended and stagnant. The Wizarding World needed such strongholds alive and available to be sued in the Good fight against the evil the Death Eaters represented. And besides, Charlie wouldn't be able to cope with his two younger siblings, who would be equally unhappy if she tried to uproot them and separate them from Harry and the rest of their friends. Nor, she admitted to herself, would she be able to sleep if all of her babies were so far away from her, even if they would be safer. Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, Molly turned back to her patient.

Poppy had finished the initial survey of the damage before they could start the serious work of repairing the internal injuries. Each organ had to be repaired and virtually renewed, so extensive was the damage. It was going to take every erg of magic they could scrape up between them and even then, it would be a close run thing. At a word from the medi-witch Molly turned her experience with so many boys' childhood mishaps on the broken and damaged limbs, supporting and conserving the medi-witch's energy by taking over the monitoring and renewing of the spells Poppy had already cast. Roger, muttering charms interspersed with the occasional tsk or soft curse, fought to save what was left, if anything, of Snape's brain and mind, which was his speciality.


	4. Trying to Raise the Dead

**Chapter 3** – _Trying to Raise the Dead_

"I know we shouldn't be seen together, but what could I do? We are supposed to be the pattern cards for the Dark Side, but he is something else indeed! The others, Greyback, Goyle, even the Lestranges were screaming and howling and promising everything. Me too, I admit. But not Severus. He just stood there and took it, again and again, an Unforgivable Curse which no one is supposed to be able to resist. But he never gave an inch. Then the Dark Lord began using cutting jinxes, bludger hexes and any other torture spell he could think of, but despite the pain, Severus never made a single noise, not one! Every time he fell to his knees, the Dark Lord stopped and laughed, but Uncle Severus just slowly and carefully climbed to his feet and said he had done nothing he was ashamed of. Again and again he repeated that line, those words, even when his bones were sticking out of his very skin, and then he walked out. He walked out!" The voice was tired and slightly hysterical, soft and insistent, on the very verge of collapse.

Everyone had forgotten about Draco Malfoy, one of the rising young stars of the Death Eater Movement, who was now standing in the inner sanctum of the Order's headquarters, big as life and bold as brass. Arthur, pressed into service with Tonks to brew a Blood Replenishing Potion, re-aimed his already drawn wand by habit, and Tonks drew hers immediately. Both wands orientated on the boy who did not notice the new and immediate threat.

Draco continued as if in a trance, "Lord Voldemort," – even now there was a sharp intake of breath at the mention of his name, but it did not register with the blond youth. "He just snapped completely, left reality behind while allowing his rage to take over. His last few raids had been foiled by the Aurors, and he was out to find the traitor. Determined to find one, and anyone would do, guilty or innocent had no bearing. Anyone and everyone in the room was in the firing line, and everyone suffered the Cruciatus Curse indiscriminately. Then Professor Snape walked in, arriving late for some reason, and the Dark Lord went berserk! He said Snape was the only one who knew all the details of his plans. He was a trusted lieutenant, given rights and privileges above and beyond anyone else, and yet he was still a traitor to the cause, no matter what he professed. I suppose the Lord had forgotten about crowing in anticipation to everyone in the Great Hall, bragging about how wonderful the next few weeks were to be, what a triumphant campaign he was going to wage." The sheer disgust in the young man's voice was amazing to his listeners, too real and heartfelt to be faked.

He blinked suddenly, a much more familiar sneer curving his lips. "Gods, I hate that ugly unacceptable travesty of a man with his extremely bad grammar and overweening ego! He is so… so _aesthetically_ _unappealing_. Really disgusting! At least Dumbledore didn't _monologue_; I'll give him that much credit, although some of his lectures were more suited to five-year olds. The Dark Lord said he would do whatever it took to get the truth out of Snape, but he was really just looking for a convenient outlet for his temper, a scapegoat if you like. He seemed to have a very personal grudge against Uncle Severus and took great pleasure in hurting and humiliating him in front of everyone else. All I could do was stand there and watch and pray he would not be killed. Oh Merlin, what have I done?" The young voice rose in a wail as the boy's own wounds and curse signatures flared and beat at his nerves. "If I hadn't acquired an anonymous owl to pass on that information, if I had just kept quiet, this would never have happened. He would never have hurt Uncle Severus like that, with such studied and intense hatred. I fell over him in the alley; I couldn't just leave him, not after what I'd done to him."

Two thoughts met and merged to form a decision in Arthur's mind almost instantly. "Hush now, Draco, it's alright, son. We'll see to your Uncle Severus and do our best to keep him alive. You go with Tonks and she'll take care of you, get you some potions and deal with those tremors," Arthur soothed the young man who looked as if he was at his last gasp, too, as the curse shivers shook his whole frame. In fact, he resembled a small, terrified child with his frail blond looks and enormous, tear-drowned eyes.

Madam Pomfrey was too engrossed in her work to notice what was happening. Molly merely looked up, smiled approvingly and then returned to her ministrations, knowing Arthur would cope with the badly-used child. He had always been the more sympathetic of them when it came to dealing with the children's hurts, either physical or emotional. She was the practical one who dealt in discipline and order.

Roger was open-mouthed, especially when Arthur gave the boy a one-armed hug before turning him toward the door. Sometimes Molly and Arthur were too kind and naïve for this war, which he feared would be the end of them.

Tonks was incensed. "What?" she exclaimed. "Are you insane? He's a viper! A Death Eater in training! He always has been. Have you seen the dossier on him and his accursed family at Auror headquarters, it's half a foot thick, I tell you. He helped kill Professor Dumbledore, not even a year ago! Surely you remember that small fact? We should get rid of him now before he does more damage, before he is allowed to spread word of where this headquarters is situated. You don't get chances like this plunked in your lap every day!"

Arthur sighed. "Think a minute. He's surrendered his wand without either of us even asking for it, and he blames himself for Severus' injuries just because he passed on some minor bits of information. Besides, things are rarely quite what they seem in this war, remember? We all wondered why Dumbledore seemed so ready to accept death, even begged for it from Severus. We all know Severus was protecting Draco due to the Binding he had made with Narcissa, and we also know Albus was protecting the both of them, too, with what turned out to be his dying breath. His last note stated that very clearly, if you remember? Professor Dumbledore knew he was not long for this world and wanted his death to be significant in securing Severus' place with You-Know-Who. It would seem rather ungrateful to kill Draco and ruin Albus' sacrifice for nothing, now wouldn't it?"

Her eyebrows raised, "Shit! I never thought…it makes sense though. I never understood why Dumbledore liked Snape so much. Why he was always defending the greasy git to all of us."

Roger stirred. "He thought of Snape as a salve to his conscience, someone he could rescue and succour after his failure with a…previous er, son." The man's slightly bitter tones trailed off into an embarrassed silence when he realised everyone was looking at him with a puzzled sort of questioning.

Tonks recovered first and shrugged dismissively. "If Malfoy is Snape's godson and also a spy, then I suppose Dumbledore had a soft spot for the boy, too"

They all focused on 'the boy'. Blood, dirt and tears stained the usually porcelain complexion; the typically immaculate hair and robes were streaked and soiled with slime and dirt. He was standing in the middle of the 'enemy camp', but he was oblivious to the wands pointed at his head. All he could do was stand riveted, staring at the pile of blood and meat he had dragged in, the mortal remains of his Uncle and Godfather, praying Severus survived the ordeal. If his Godfather died, then Draco knew it would be all his fault for having betrayed him in so many small ways, quite unintentionally. With every half-sobbed breath, tremors coursed over the boy, shaking the shredded robe and causing some of the odd facial ticks they were all far too familiar with. Severus might be shredded, but the boy had suffered his own round of the Cruciatus Curse, which was self-evident. "Tonks, my dear, keep him safe and out of the public eye, won't you? Take him upstairs and make sure he is cared for, cleaned up and fed."

"Sure, Arthur," the metamorphmagus uttered slightly awed; she was not easily impressed but Arthur's almost superhuman ability to forgive the enemy left her stunned and humbled. If the Weasleys, after losing so much, could accept the boy's self-evident repentance, then she could do no less.

For ages they had been debating over whom the new informant was, even as lately as a few hours ago, and this was not a picture any of them had drawn. Malfoy junior had earned his own notoriety for being present when Snape killed Dumbledore. They had both fled with the Death Eaters to join their Lord and Master wherever he had been hiding out at the time. Seeing Draco in the light of day, a war-weary boy unarmed and curse injured, with a tear-streaked face and trembling lip, seemed to dispel the horns and tail he had been credited with by the Daily Prophet. Taking pity on him, she curved an arm around the thin shoulders and led him away. After a few moments of heated internal debate, Tonks even managed a smile. "Come on, kid, I'll get you a bath going. There's a couple of potions in the bathroom with your name on them. They will help ease those tremors," she told him in the overly cheerful tones one saved especially for invalids and half wits.

The boy went with little resistance, staring back over his shoulder at his uncle until the door closed behind him.

oo0oo

'_**Moron! Idiot! Stand up straight! Who gave you permission to lie down? How dare you take such liberties!'**_

'_**You will learn that passage, word and gesture perfect, before any food or drink crosses your lips again. Do you understand?'**_

_**The crop cut across his shoulders as he sprang to attention, hands at his side, thumbs neatly tucked into his fists, eyes facing front. **_

'_**Dung, dirt, less than nothing! Human! I can see you thinking! How dare you even think about questioning me?'**_

'_**You despised excuse for a useless waste of space! Who gave you permission to leave your kennel?'**_

'_**Live with your discomfort. It is more than you deserve!'**_

"Yes, Grandmother," came the voice of a small child.

Severus knew how to live with discomfort; he had been taught it well. From the age of eighteen months when his mother had failed to protect him from his father and Grandmother, the old woman had subjected him to the test for vampirism. The tests themselves were painful and intrusive, causing the tiny child much terror and pain. He had failed every test, proving to be distressingly human, and Grandmother had begun a regime to force him to convert or kill him, whichever came first. And either outcome would have been equally welcome.

oo0oo

In the real world, Molly, Poppy and Roger looked at the head of the carcass on the table, unsure about what they had heard but knowing it wasn't good. They weren't quite sure what the man had said but the fact that he had managed to speak at all was distressing.

"He shouldn't be conscious, shouldn't be able to speak … or think or … anything!" Roger said uncertainly, glancing at the two women. "His mind is completely empty, not a trace of thought to be found. And there are enough potions running around in his system to embalm him completely, never mind heal him."

Neither woman had an answer or an explanation so they turned back to their work and were quickly engrossed in it once again.

oo0oo

'_**Grandmother??? How dare you defile me with that title? You are not worthy of that claim!'**_

'_**You are not worthy of the air you breathe!'**_

'_**How dare you even look at me!'**_

_**The crop lashed at his shoulders again.**_

oo0oo

The body in front of them suddenly went rigid as a board, tearing at the already torn flesh and making various wounds begin to bleed again. They looked at each other startled. "He seems not only to have retreated into his mind, but also in time," Roger ventured. "My statement still stands, how on earth can he be speaking or moving when we have him under so many spells? The _Acclaro_ spell says he's a vegetable."

"We'll have to work that one out later. His Legilimency and Occlumency are of such an order that the usual spells may be useless against them. I've cobbled him together temporarily and done all I can with his heart for now. If I don't get started on the other organs, it will all be for naught. Where are you up to, Molly?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Well, I had managed to stop him bleeding to death externally, but that last lot of, whatever it was, has started a few places bleeding again, nothing serious, thank Goodness. Most of the major bones are back together again, apart from a few splinters that we may need to remove, if they won't reattach. I planned to deal with the lesser bones next. Finding one intact will be the real trick," replied Molly soberly.

"Roger?"

"I've dealt with the physical damage, the skull fracture is fused, and the bruising and swelling of the brain have been alleviated. The rest, well…" He shrugged in defeat.

"Can you move to his lungs then? They seem to have been scorched internally; I need to get to what's left of his kidneys. Much as I hate to do it, I'm going to have to remove this one, it is beyond help. Arthur, how is that Blood Replenishing Potion going? We've already used up our whole supply."

"I'm just bottling it now, Poppy," Arthur assured her, tapping the caps and sealing them carefully.

"Has it been two hours already? You better start another batch straight away; we're in for a long night." She sighed deeply and started to work again.

oo0oo

"_**You unworthy slime from the primordial ooze."**_

"_**That's right, give up like that evolutionary mistake that died after spitting you out!"**_

"_**You are thinking again, are you not? No, I am not required to love a reject like you. I'm offering you the key to untold riches, and you defile that gift with your **_human**_ fancies."_**

"_**You are just as bad as the pathetic fools that spawned you. Love conquers all, ha! Love is the excuse weak people use to cover mistakes like you."**_

"_**Arrogance…what do **_you**_ have to be arrogant about? It is as bad as crying like a worthless accident. I can discard that error like the others."_**

_**The burning pain in his joints turned to fire as she turned the screw on the rack he had been placed in many days ago.**_

oo0oo

The arms of the body on the table suddenly flew overhead as all the joints in the body cracked from fingertips to toes. Molly gasped as the bones of Severus' forearm that she had spent so long putting back together fell apart, the almost completed spell shattering under the unexpected movement. All three almost instinctively snapped out body binds and holding spells over the injuries they had been working on to minimise the damage the unexpected movement had caused.

"What the…?" exclaimed Poppy. "Roger, can you do something about this? These reactions he's having could undo all we've done. It'll kill him! Oh quick, Molly, put some pressure on that artery, it's about to pop the holding spell again!"

"I wish I could immobilise him," Roger replied in exasperation. "I've tried every spell, incantation and charm I can think of to hold him but they are useless. Hell…I've even explored my knowledge of dark magic, which isn't much, I must admit, but is all related to quelling mind and body so that they are more open to the forces of magic being applied to them. I even tried to put him into a bewitched coma, although that is _really_ not advised by any medical authority in cases of brain trauma. I hit a brick wall in his mind, didn't even manage to contact a trace of his real personality, just some vague memories and fleeting snatches of pain. The Occlumency loop he has gone into is shielding his whole mind so totally, it's impregnable," said Roger with palpable respect in his tone. "On the other hand, he feels no pain from his injuries even when he involuntarily aggravates them, and if he does slip over the edge into the next life, then it will be a pleasant and easy going, which is more than most people can expect these days," he added in consolation, seeing the fear and despair on Molly's face.

"We'll just have to do what we can then and hope he doesn't slip away from us," murmured Poppy.

"He is so stubborn he probably won't go, simply for spite and awkwardness." Roger grinned crookedly at the two women who smiled back sadly, and then he nodded to the neo-corpse in front of them. "Even so, I think we should do everything we can to help keep his stubborn body and soul together, don't you think?"

They all went back to the well-ordered routine they had developed over the last months, each working in unison to heal the poor souls that unfortunately crossed the paths of the Death Eaters. Severus now lay as still as death, no more twitching and moving as they worked hard and fast to conserve his life and energy.


	5. The Beginning of Understanding

**Chapter 4** – _The Beginning of Understanding_

Tonks showed Draco out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He staggered a little near the top of the flight, and Tonks instinctively put out a hand to help him. He shrugged it off impatiently, squared his shoulders, assumed his pure-blood air and continued as though nothing had occurred. By the top of the second flight of stairs his resolve began to falter, and this time Tonks didn't let him shrug her off as she steered him to the second floor bathroom.

It was a dingy affair like most of the rooms in the old house, institutional green and brownish cream tiles stuck three quarters of the way up the walls and dull unpolished slates on the floor. The cast iron bathtub had a rust mark in the enamelled coating where the tap dripped constantly, but it was as deep and as wide as a baby swimming pool. Draco looked around disdainfully at the age-spotted mirror and the cracked slates on the floor before turning to the witch who still hovered at his elbow.

"This place is disgusting! Surely you don't expect me to use this filthy hole to wash in?"

Tonks stiffened and glared hotly. "Listen, you spoilt little brat, this is as good as it gets, so either shut up or push off! Just remember, _Little __Cousin_, you could just as easily be staying in Azkaban at this point in time. This would be a palace in comparison to what that hole has to offer. Now get your traitorous uniform off and let me treat your wounds as per orders from the senior medical wizard. You know what orders are, don't you?"

"Oh yes, those things I give to other people," Draco murmured wickedly.

Tonks drew a sharp breath, her wand rising automatically until she saw the taunting glitter in her cousin's eye, the lurking misery behind it. Matching glare for glare she lowered her wand hand and then smiled sweetly, shifting appearance until she mirrored Draco's pale good looks perfectly, although in a feminine version. "Yes, that's right, _those_ things," she told him in matching purebred tones.

Draco smirked, having successfully gotten a rise out of her, and murmured _F__inite Incantatem_ over his robes which promptly returned to his school uniform, a little worse for wear but totally innocuous. Tonks narrowed her eyes. So that was how they managed to stay anonymous or disappear into a crowd so quickly, due to a simple transformation spell. It was a piece of information well worth having for future reference.

"Humm, clever, yes," Draco smirked, seeing her expression turn thoughtful and calculating. "Catch us if you can when we are 'just part of the poor, innocent crowd'," he taunted, laying his robes aside fastidiously over the clothes rail provided.

Tonks really, really wanted to punch his pureblood patrician nose but managed to restrain herself when she recognised the sheer misery in the boy's eyes. He wanted to be punished, she realised; wanted to fight and rage and expiate his guilt in some physical way. Instead, she smiled and patted his arm companionably. "Come on, Draco, let's get some potion into you to ease those tremors. It's from Professor Snape's cauldron so we know it is all good, no poison slipped in by an unsuspected Death Eater sympathiser. I didn't know Severus was related to you. Is he related to me, too?"

Draco glared at the reminder that this metamorphmagus was actually his first cousin; her mother and his mother were blood sisters, although a few years apart in age. Of course, they were both related to Bellatrix Lestrange, so that wasn't saying much! "Severus is my Godfather but not a blood relative," he said haughtily, "which makes him no relation of yours, thank Merlin!

"Hey, I'm not so bad when you get to know me." Tonks grinned cheerfully, her usual good humour restored.

"And that is supposed to reassure me?" Draco shot back but without the sharp-edged malice he usually coated his words with.

Tonks laughed appreciatively and opened the cupboard, pulling down various bottles and packets. "Here, drink this; it's definitely from Professor Snape's cauldron so it will probably not poison you, most likely. He can be a bit acidic, you know."

Draco grimaced but drank obediently, a shiver coursing through him. He hated the way the Cruciatus Curse just kept on keeping on, the involuntary quivering of his muscles making him think of ants running about under his skin, ants with hobnailed boots on! Tonks nodded and passed him the next portion of potion with a wicked grin even as she changed her appearance with no apparent effort. Eyeing the girl who now looked like his identical twin, Draco drank the foul concoction, pulling as many horrendous faces as he could think of. Tonks mirrored his efforts and topped them at times until they both burst out laughing. "Alright, conceded, you are a very good metamorphmagus," Draco pronounced as he drank the water she offered to wash away the taste of his medicine.

"Let me just cast a quick _Acclaro_ over you and see… oh yes, so much better… you should be feeling a little more chipper very soon, the potions tend to kick in very quickly," Tonks told him as her appearance wavered into her own standard look, and she held out a thin brown hand. "Give me your outer robes, and I'll get them cleaned up and mended for you. We can't send you back to school looking like a ragamuffin, what would Professor McGonagall say? There are clean towels in the cupboard, shampoo and soap on the shelf. Have a soak in the bath and get cleaned up yourself. Breakfast will be coming in from Hogwarts pretty soon, but you may have time to take a quick nap before then. The kitchen is out of action for a while, or… well, for a while anyway."

"Until he dies, did you mean?" Draco asked harshly. "He won't, you know? He can't!"

"Draco, he is so badly hurt, he might," Tonks warned gently, holding up a palm to quell his rising indignation.

Draco shook his head, making his filthy hair bounce wildly. "No. I… no, I have lost everyone I care about to the Death Eaters and that disgusting travesty of a man, but they aren't having Uncle Severus; that I cannot permit and will fight to the death to prevent."

Tonks frowned at the boy who was grimly determined. "Your parents are still alive, aren't they?"

"Hah! They are his creatures, and they may as well be dead for all the notice they take of the real world! Out!"

Tonks felt the magic in him driving her back, the door slamming as soon as she was clear. Head bowed thoughtfully, Tonks wandered away. She had never had anything to do with her aunt and uncle, her mother having severed all relations with them when they declared for the Dark Lord during the First Voldemort War. In truth, Tonks had never thought about what it might be like to have two Death Eaters for parents, either. Now she had to think about it as she had been challenged by the strange youth who was her cousin, and she didn't like the picture her thoughts and real knowledge of the evil faction was painting. If they acted as wildly and as unpredictably at home as they did in the field, having Death Eater parents would be horrendous! With that conclusion, Tonks shook her head sadly, tripped over the hall runner and stumbled head first into her bedroom.

oo0oo

Several hours later all three medical personnel stood back from the kitchen table, exhaustion dragging at their heels. They had been working for a solid six hours to keep Severus Snape alive and kicking, and so far they seemed to have succeeded in keeping him alive at least. Roger stared out of black circled eyes at the two women he had worked as one with and smiled slightly. They really didn't look any better than he, exhausted, wrung out and not even quietly triumphant, rather just resigned and tired.

"We do good work," he murmured, pushing a hank of limp brown hair out of his dark blue eyes. His long, bony face was haggard and drawn making him look older than time.

"We do that." Poppy smiled back, a spark of recognition tapping at the back of her mind but she was too tired to feel the slightest bit of curiosity, instead she sighed deeply. "Let's hope Severus is stubborn enough to stay alive long enough to heal enough to stay alive."

"Now say that fast five times," Molly muttered, then clenched her teeth to stop a howl of loss breaking out at the unthinking reference her tired mind made to her twin boys.

Poppy squeezed her shoulder in sympathy, knowing exactly what she was referring to. Roger missed the significance of the moment, lost in his own world of concerns. "Let's just hope that if he does heal, he manages to break out of his loop or he will never be whole. He may remain a living, breathing vegetable, forever trapped in the confines of his own skull."

All three sighed in unison then straightened tiredly, joints protesting the ill-usage. "Right, let's get him into the ballroom for recovery; there are a couple of free cots there. Who is on duty as nurse just now? We had better make sure they know he needs a close eye kept on him. Better yet, I'll put an alarm charm on him to monitor his progress and to alert us if there is any change we need to be aware of." Roger dug up a shred of remaining energy to cast _Mobili Corpus _over the unconscious figure now swathed in bandages.

The make-shift ward they had set up in the once elegant ballroom was indeed a grim and most unsanitary place, not at all suitable for patients recovering from serious injuries and maladies, but it was the best they could do. Cots lined the walls where once debutants and their duennas had watched couples whirl around the floor. The long, elegant windows were shrouded by the ragged remains of the once equally elegant velvet drapes, which now only barely served to keep the cold out. House-elves on loan from Hogwarts, led by the indomitable Dobby, did their best to keep the place clean, but the turn-over of patients was such that the mess never entirely went away.

One or two people looked up as the new patient was floated in but their gazes were incurious, and all went back to dosing until their treatment spells were complete and they could be released. Molly quickly cast a glamour over Snape's features and tucked the plain blue blanket around his thin shoulders, careful to make sure his left forearm was completely under the covers. It wouldn't do for anyone to see the grim black Dark Mark on that very pale skin. Not everyone in the Order was aware that Snape was a spy so they had to hide him as best they could. Roger clicked his tongue at his oversight and quickly conjured a bandage over the mark to hide it more effectively, making Molly smile her thanks.

"I'll take first watch," she offered and held out her arm for Roger to put the watch charm onto her wrist. He didn't argue, casting the invisible charm quickly and efficiently, as Poppy made her way to the floo and was whisked away to Hogwarts to try and catch an hour's sleep before the weekend warriors flocked in to be treated. Nodding to the woman on duty, Molly pulled up an armchair and sat down to try and get some rest while Roger wandered off to his bed once again with the same goal in mind.

oo0oo

The kitchen door opened with a bang. Harry and Hermione entered noisily pushing Ron between them. All three stopped in shock when they realised the area was empty, no Molly presiding over the cauldrons and teapot, just a clean empty space ready for use.

"That's odd," Ron muttered, glancing around hurriedly. "And just typical, mind you, that woman disappears whenever she is needed."

"Ronald Weasley! You are just so… so… so!" Hermione said, indignant on his mother's behalf, ignoring the wicked smile he and Harry shared at her expense.

"We should split up and look for her," Harry said practically. "You go look upstairs in the loos and stuff, Hermione. Ron, you check out the library and sitting room…"

"Why can't Hermione check out the library?" Ron complained almost by rote.

"Because it's a library and we do want to see her again today," Harry said practically and laughed when Hermione swatted his arm. "I'll check out the hospital, you know how it makes you feel sick, Ron."

"It doesn't make me feel ill," Hermione said practically.

"But if I found Mrs Weasley in a bathroom, then she would not be very happy about it, would she? Oh for Merlin's sake, people, stop arguing and get looking, we haven't got all day!" Harry huffed in exasperation.

Ron and Hermione high fived each other in congratulations for making Harry get on his high horse, and both ran off with Harry in hot pursuit. At the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Black began to scream indignantly about people running in the hallways, but they simply ignored her as they split up, each going to their separate destination.

Hermione bounced upstairs to the first floor bathroom and tapped on the door, but there was no one in when she stuck her head around the frame. Someone had left an incongruous pink and red bath toy shaped like a fish perched in the sink. Giggling, the girl bounced up the next flight of stairs and tapped at the second bathroom door. There was no answer so she stuck her head around the door and almost gasped aloud, stifling the noise with her hand.

A pale body floated in the water, looking for all the world like a drowned corpse. Livid swathes of black and blue bruising dottled its torso, and a deeply black bruise ran down one forearm. Before Hermione could do more than gape, blood flooding to her cheeks, the 'corpse' opened its eyes, and an all too familiar sneer curved pale lips.

"You know, Granger, if you have finished getting an eyeful, you might like to close the door, you are letting in a very cold draft," Malfoy said sarcastically but made no attempt to cover his modesty.

Hermione glared, embarrassment morphing to anger. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she snarled. "Why aren't you running around with your other Death Eater cronies?"

"Learning to sing the Hallelujah Chorus of course, Granger, what does it look like I am doing? And a Malfoy _never_ runs." He sat up and flicked his hair out of his eyes.

"I thought you were a corpse," Hermione said honestly, eyes narrowing as she assessed her year mate, taking in the bruised and battered look of him. One particular set of black lines drew and held her attention, her curiosity sitting up and taking notice.

"Sorry to disappoint, but not yet. What are you doing here?"

"I am looking for Molly Weasley. I, oh dear, this is embarrassing, er, may I have a look at your Dark Mark. I've never actually seen one up close."

Malfoy eyed her with a jaundiced air, then snorted and shook his head. That was the last thing he thought she would be interested in. "You are something else, Granger. I am naked here, in my complete natural glory, and you want to see my tattoos?"

Hermione glared and gave him a slow and insolent once up and down look, hiding what it cost her to remain unaffected. "Well, it does prove you are a natural blond after all, but apart from that, I think the Dark Mark is probably the most interesting thing about you, unless you want help with those bruises? The ones on your back look particularly nasty."

Draco shook his head and gave her an amused smile, disarmed by her sheer single-mindedness. "Yes, I could use a hand with the bruising. Whatever it was Tonks gave me, it has drained me almost out of strength, never mind magic."

Concerned, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast relieving charms over the long, thin bruises that wrapped around his torso, noticing there were quite a few of the marks as well as a few old ones. Draco wasn't very tall but he was well muscled, thanks to playing Quidditch for Slytherin. Tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder, she turned him a little and tended to the next lot of stripes that curved over his ribs and spine.

Draco didn't move, allowing her to push him from side to side until she was satisfied she had fixed them all. Finally, she gave a small noise of satisfaction and stood back a little, tipping her head to one side. "That's done, how does your back feel now?" she asked without malice.

"Very good, thank you," he murmured laying back in the tub and holding out his left forearm impatiently. "Here, satisfy your curiosity."

She was pleased to note he had acquired some bubbles to preserve modesty then turned her attention to the Dark Mark, studying it intently, noting the way it almost seemed to study her back. "It's looking at me," she breathed softly.

"Yes, it often seems that way to me, too," Draco muttered with a shiver, turning his head to look at her. They were so close, his lips grazed her cheek, touching at the side of her mouth, and they both jumped guiltily. "You had better go, Granger. If Potty or the Weasel find you here, they'll skin me alive which would be a shame considering all your handiwork."

Hermione nodded quickly and stood up then stopped to stare down at him for a long considering second. "Take care, Malfoy, whip marks like that can't always be healed cleanly, you know? And you are rather _pretty_ looking."

He simply nodded with closed eyes as she left.


	6. New Sides to Old Friends

**Chapter 5** – _New Sides to Old Friends_

Ron entered the sitting room, originally the formal parlour when the Blacks had owned the house. There was a fascinating cabinet over on the far wall full of artefacts he was dying to study closely, but which his mother had always chased him away from when she had caught him sneaking around before. Seeing no one was present, Ron grinned wickedly and hurried over to the cabinet to cast a revealing spell before trying the handles. He jumped guiltily when the ornate brass knob turned in his hand and the curved glass doors swung open with a very faint squeak, a rush of musty air making him stifle a cough.

Whipping his head around, Ron made sure there was no one behind him before hunkering down and studying the very bottom shelf first, just in case there was something he had missed. There was one artefact on the second shelf he really wanted to have a look at, a small curved horn made of a dead white substance Ron rather thought would be bone. Bands of gold circled the trumpet shape, each engraved with runes. They were very decorative and probably had a secondary function, but what it was, Ron didn't know. Still, he was wary enough to treat the artefact with caution, drawing his wand and casting a revealing spell over the thing. It didn't show any Dark Aura so Ron prodded it with a cautious finger. When nothing happened, he picked the small item up and turned it curiously in his hand, examining it carefully.

He was so engrossed in his examination that the bang of the door slamming open to the stops made him fall onto his backside in fright. An unkempt figure stormed into the room cursing and swearing with an impressive vocabulary, fists pounding on jean-clad thighs as he kicked out at the furniture. Long, honey-blond hair curled wildly and spilled out of the leather thong that held most of it back, a curling hank obscuring one eye as it flopped down his face. A leather jacket, with a painted wolf's head on the back, all scuffed and one pocket torn, was slung over a tightly stretched black t-shirt half tucked into the ratty and holed jeans. Heavy knee-high leather cycle boots thudded heavily on the threadbare Persian rug as the man paced agitatedly.

Ron didn't dare move as the feral figure spun on his toes with wand extended, breathing heavily as Tonks appeared in the doorway, a wry smile curving her lips.

"You look like shit," she said evenly, obviously recognising the wildman.

"Ah, fuck you, Tonks!" The snarl was bitter and harsh but only made the metamorphmagus laugh. "Did you hear what they have gone and done this time? Goddamnit! They are taking away our children!"

"What? What do you mean?" Tonks asked in surprise. "I heard the branding law had been stopped, and there would be no registration tattoos but…."

"Hah! The concession for that was that we couldn't keep our current children or raise any children or adopt any children, not even infected children. Anyone raising a child by themselves is to have the child made a Ward of the Wizengamot, and you know what that means, don't you? It means orphanages for the most part, and who runs the orphanages? The fucking Ministry, that's who!" He spun on his toes and brought both fists down on the occasional table which all but flew apart in splinters under the impact.

Ron was impressed, to say the least, but he did not dare move. Tonks came forward and tried to wrap her arms around the man, but he shrugged her off impatiently. "They were after Harry, you know," he said matter-of-factly, moving to hold onto the mantle shelf and lean down to stare into the empty fireplace. "I was with Minerva when the word came through, and that little weasel Percy said to tell me they were going to pull Harry's adoption papers and then take Harry to St Joseph's on the Main. But we fucked them up there! I told Sirius not to put my name on the papers, I made him take it off again when he tried a sneaky one, and now I am so bloody glad, even if it nearly broke my heart at the time. They can't touch Harry through me. Gods, I would never forgive myself if they could use me like that. As it is I can no longer own property, so I am turning this lot over to the Order which is a bequest in my Will. Let the Ministry try and fight that one! And I can't have a bank account, so the vault at Gringotts has to go, too."

"Shit! And I thought we had gained a victory." Tonks sighed, shaking her head at the unfairness of it all. "It is pyretic, isn't it?

"Totally; I've been up and down the country this last two days, trying to keep the Wild Wolves from taking out the Wizengamot, which they would try if someone didn't try to talk them out of it. What a victory for You-Know-Who if that happened and what a disaster for the werewolves, just another confirmation of their unsuitability to be counted in Wizarding society." The bitter laugh was almost a sob as he shook his head.

"When did you last sleep, Remus?" Tonks asked gently, and Ron couldn't help gaping when he finally realised who the wild and woolly character was. This was not the quiet spoken and self-effacing DADA teacher he remembered but someone entirely different. Someone who was wild and totally out of control, dangerous and unpredictable, and very, very cool!

'_Like Bill used to be, before the raid on Gringotts',_ the thought crept in.

"Aaugh, who's had time to sleep! Moon's coming in little more than a week, and we're all at the end of our patience. I have fifty or sixty stirred-up wild wolves with enough adrenalin to power a major revolution, and I need a safe target to vent it on or it will be a disaster. What has Snape come up with for us?"

Tonks bit her lip as she moved toward the far wall and opened a drinks cabinet, glass clinking as she worked. "Severus Snape is out of the running, probably permanently. He is lying in pieces all over the kitchen table with his guts hanging out to dry, or he was half an hour ago. If he survives the night, he may never regain consciousness; and if he does regain consciousness, he may be a complete mental vegetable." Tonks turned and offered the werewolf the glass she had poured.

Remus had turned to stare at her looking gobsmacked. He made no effort to take the glass, stunned by the bad news. Snape was such a valuable asset to the light, more than anyone else at the moment, and his loss would be catastrophic! "Well, that's us screwed then, isn't it? Much as Severus can be a total prick, he is a bloody efficient spy. We are fucked! What about back-up lines of information? Is there anyone else who can fill his place or at least has a chance of passing any information at all?"

"No, not off-hand. The information our other informant passes is good but not particularly complete, as he is not what you call inner circle like Snape, more like an interested eavesdropper. As you so inelegantly put it, we are definitely screwed at the moment, but it doesn't do to fall into despair, we have been in just as poor a position before, and we have managed to come about, you know that. Everyone said that the death of Professor Dumbledore would be the end of the Order, but we survived and we came about and we are stronger than ever," she added persuasively and held out the glass again. "Here, drink it, it will make you feel better, I promise. I found it especially for you."

He sniffed hard and grabbed the glass, upending it in one gulp and making Tonks laugh. "Now that is interesting! What is it?"

"It's a chocolate crème liqueur; cognac and chocolate in a bottle." Tonks grinned and obligingly poured more into the impatiently thrust-out glass. "It's potent, mind, more so than good firewhiskey."

"Better than sex," he growled, taking the bottle from her hand and refilling his glass for the third time.

"Sure about that?" Tonks asked leaning forward to press against the man, who barked a laugh and pushed her away with a rather gentler hand than he could have.

"Wrong shape, little girl," he commented with a sneer that wobbled into laughter lines.

Tonks morphed into a burley masculine form, broader and taller than the slightly built werewolf. "How does this take you?"

"Roughly from behind sounds good, if we didn't have an audience," Remus muttered and grinned ruefully over her shoulder, his golden eyes meeting and holding Ron's terrified blue ones. "Morning, Ron," he greeted with a tired tipsy salute, no longer looking wild or dangerous, just sad. The boy really hadn't needed to hear anything like that, and Remus' conscience pinched as he eased away from Tonks, who morphed back into her more usual shape.

"Holy shit! Merlin, Ron Weasley, your mother will kill me!"

Both Ron and Remus looked at her in surprise and shrugged. "Don't know why, it wasn't your fault I heard something I wasn't supposed to," Ron commented miserably. "I'm sorry, Professor Lupin, I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Remus will do, Ron. What have you there? Oh, Regulus' sneaky ear, a bit like your brothers' extendible ears, only more primitive and upmarket. Doesn't matter what you heard, the news about the new werewolf laws will be on the front page of the Daily Prophet for anyone to read by tomorrow morning. Thanks to your brother we had enough of a warning to make different arrangements for most of the property and children. Very few were caught, most having shifted the responsibility to family or friends. As for Professor Snape's injuries, well, I'm sure they will become common knowledge all too soon." He finished his third or fourth glass of the liqueur and licked the inside clean with his tongue before pouring another brimming glass. "This stuff is bloody good," he commented absently as he chewed on his unshaven lip.

"You should be under the table by now; that stuff is lethal," Tonks commented disapprovingly, checking the level of the much depleted bottle.

"I'm a werewolf, darling; I have the constitution of a horse."

"And you have picked up some bad habits from your wild friends," Tonks added with pursed lips.

"Probably fleas, too," he shot back with a wicked grin that made Ron giggle, his embarrassment of a moment ago forgotten.

"Well, you could use a jolly good wash, now you mention it, you pong!" Tonks sniffed delicately and made a show of holding her nose which had morphed into something an elephant would not be ashamed of. "Too many cleaning spells and not enough soap and water over too long a period of time, I'm thinking."

"What I _need_ is a bath, a shave, a haircut and some decent robes; what I am going to have to settle for is a damned good meal, then get on the road again. If Snape is out of the running, I had better tap my other sources and see what I can find out. Merlin's Arse, Tonks, I must have been a wicked bastard in my past life!" He heaved himself to his feet, staggered once, then straightened and drew his wand. Most traces of drunkenness disappeared at his charm, and before he left he cast _R__eparo_ over the table almost carelessly. Ron could only admire the skill that went into making it look so effortless as he followed the werewolf out and went to look for Harry.

oo0oo

Hermione was just coming down the stairs and stopped in surprise and admiration as the man swaggered by, heading toward the kitchen. He had broad shoulders and a great behind, cupped in worn denim, and looked totally edible in a very bad-boy way. Ron glanced up and caught her staring, covering his mouth in wicked amusement. He had seen that look on Hermione's face before when checking out the backsides of the Quidditch chasers in the Canons line-up, very discretely, of course.

"And _who_ was _that_?" she asked, no longer blushing when her best friend caught her looking. She and Ron had a very firm understanding, now that they had passed the madly infatuated stage and moved into the friends-for-life-but-platonic stage, same as she and Harry. It had taken quite some time to reconcile themselves and Molly to the fact, but now they were comfortable with each other again.

"Down, girl, I don't have any napkins to wipe up the drool," Ron teased cheerfully. "Oh, he's just a field agent," he added airily when Hermione looked like she might choke him.

A bark of laughter came from the kitchen and from the parlour doorway as Tonks came out and overheard them. "Turn your ears down, Mister! This is girl talk!" she bellowed and another bark of laughter came from the kitchen. "Forget it, Hon, Remus doesn't go in for little girls as he just informed me a few minutes ago."

"That wonderful piece of man-flesh is not available or interested?" Hermione squeaked and grinned almost maliciously as Ron turned bright scarlet, hushing her almost frantically. "What? You started it," she reminded him with a wicked grin.

"It's Professor Lupin, Hermione, and he can hear you!" Ron hissed making hushing motions.

"Profes… Oh Merlin!" Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth her eyes as big as saucers. She was brave enough when teasing Ron or Harry, but not when caught out by 'authority'.

"Yeah, it's marvellous what those blasted robes can conceal," Tonks added with a grin for the younger woman. "Makes you speculate about other well known public figures, doesn't it? Snape? Malfoy? Fudge?"

"That is an image I could have lived without," Ron gasped and gagged theatrically while Hermione and Tonks collapsed in each other's arms giggling madly. "Come on, Hermione, let's find Harry before I have to pull my eyes out and pop my eardrums to survive!"

"Ah! You're no fun, Weasley," Tonks teased, ruffling his hair as he passed.

There was a sudden, unearthly screech from further down the passage, and they all cringed as Mrs Black's picture let loose a string of invective, screaming about wild, filthy animals and disgusting man-loving social climbers. She was mid-way though another tirade when a roar of sheer fury caught them all by surprise.

"I have had enough of you! You were a brass-plated bitch in life, and you have not improved in death. Sirius might have thought you were funny, sitting up there mouthing invectives like a wind-up spell, but I am not so tolerant!"

The picture's screams of temper became screams of fear as a horrendous ripping sound caused them all to run forward. Remus stood before the picture, his jacket discarded, his wand transfigured into a saw-bladed knife. Muscles rippled as he stuck the point into the wall despite the spells and curses on the plaster and lathes. Magic crackled and sparked as the point was pushed further and further into the wall despite magic. Lupin swore fluidly and fluently as sparks bit into his skin. No matter what the magic did, Lupin ignored it as he ruthlessly and vindictively cut a square out of the wall, neatly excising the picture, frame and all.

Tonks had her wand out and was quick to put out any sparks that tried to set the werewolf alight, as he worked with the grim determination of the slightly drunk and very angry. Fire, especially magical fire, was very dangerous to werewolves, but Lupin seemed oblivious in his ire.

Finally, with a long drawn-out wail, the picture came free, leaving a new window into the kitchen. The piece of wall fell on the hall runner with a clatter as Lupin drooped, his breath coming out in great gasps as he glared down triumphantly at the old woman, who stared up disbelievingly from her place on the floor. "Damn you, you animal! I curse you to hell and…."

"Too late, Witch, I already got there and I'm coming back to get you, too!" he roared, taking a swig of the bottle he had still clutched in his left hand. "Now, how are we going to make you suffer, humm? I remember Sirius put the hose on you and that didn't work. Perhaps if we…." He was reaching for the fly in his jeans even as he spoke.

"Remus Lupin! What do you think you are doing, man!" Arthur Weasley sounded scandalised as he hurried up, surveying the hole in the wall and the fallen painting with open-mouthed disbelief. "Well, I never! You cut her down? I thought there was too much magic to just cut it out. What did you use to counteract the spells?"

"Chocolate liqueur and bad temper, mostly," Tonks put in and stuck her tongue out at Remus who – incredibly – poked his very long tongue out in return.

Shaking his head, Arthur chuckled and levitated the picture away from the wall and up the stairs. His spell banished the painting to the attic, into the darkest, quietest corner he could find. Tonks slung an arm around the blushing Remus' shoulders and turned him toward the kitchen while Ron and Hermione watched them go. Arthur frowned at the two young people as if wondering what they were doing there, so Ron hurriedly bursting into speech.

"We were just looking for Mum to ask her something. Do you know where she is?"

"In the ballroom, I should think. Professor Snape has been badly hurt, and your mother has been working all night. If you can avoid disturbing her, I would appreciate it, son."

"Okay, Dad, we'll only speak to her if she's awake. Come on, Hermione, we'd better find Harry."


	7. Passing the Trust

**Chapter 6** – _Passing the Trust_

Harry leaned against the doorpost leading into the ballroom and braced himself. He always needed to gather his courage before entering the make-shift hospital with its fancy chandeliers and folding army cots. It angered him that good people fighting for the Light could not go safely to St Mungo's when their lives depended on the quality of care they received after battling the Dark. All they could get was one ex-St Mungo's medi-wizard and Poppy Pomfrey's admittedly wide range of experience, but it was sometimes not enough and good people died.

Still, there shouldn't be too many injured in the hospital at this time. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been thwarted on a number of fronts and the casualty list had been reasonably light these past few months. Steeling himself, Harry eased one leaf of the double doors open and crept into the darkened area on tiptoes.

"Mr Harry Potter!"

The squeak made him jump and gasp as Dobby wrapped long arms around his legs, effectively hobbling him in the middle of the aisle. "Gods, Dobby, you half scared me to death! What are you doing here?"

"Dobby is bringing supplies to Mr Harry Potter's house and is cleaning Mr Harry Potter's spare rooms and is making sure Mr Harry Potter's guests have clean bed linen and towels, which is Dobby's job now."

"I – you mean Remus' and my house?" Harry corrected softly, trying to keep the house elf's voice down.

"Oh no, Mr Harry Potter, Sir; the Ministry said Mr Remus Lupin-Black cannot have a house now. He is a werewolf and is not allowed to have a house of his own, so he said it is now all Mr Harry Potter's house. Is Mr Harry Potter not knowing this, Sir?"

"I – no Dobby, I didn't. When did this happen?"

"Yesterday two days ago, Sir; Mr Remus Lupin-Black is being very busy telling other werewolves how to be hiding their children and their houses and their monies. He is back now and he is not happy to be an animal."

"Dobby!"

"I am so sorry, Sir, but this is what Mr Remus Lupin-Black tells to Dobby when Dobby is asking."

"And where is Remus now?" Harry asked softly.

"He is destroying Mrs Black's painting, and making a hole in Harry Potter's wall."

Harry laughed; the almost rusty sound seemed out of place in the dim sick hall. Someone stirred off to their right, a vague figure sitting up on one elbow to stare in their direction. "That you, Potter?"

"Mrs… Figg?" Harry questioned uncertainly.

"Aye, it is, Lad. Well, don't just stand there gawping, come over here where I can see you. Well! You have grown up, but not that much taller, hey? How have you been since you moved to Hogwarts permanently?"

"Quite well, Mrs Figg, and you? How are the cats?"

"Oh, they are very well, cats usually are. Saw that pig of a cousin of yours the other day; Minky scared him so badly he broke wind to give himself a better turn of speed." The old woman cackled with relish at the memory, then held her ribs as they ached against the jiggling. "Damned Death Eaters! No respect for age! You never know where they are going to pop up next!"

"Where did they get you, Madam?" Harry asked politely as he helped ease the old woman down against her pillows comfortably.

"They were in Diagon Alley, of all places! I was shopping and they just came out of no where! Wands flaring, masks flashing, curses going willy-nilly! Silly buggers, no style!" she grumbled disgustedly.

"Who is that you have with you, Bella?" a new voice asked curiously from their right.

"A neighbour of mine, Phyllis, haven't seen him for a while."

"Was he hurt in the attack too?"

"No, of course not, you daft Besom; he's Harry Potter, the lad I used to babysit for those terrible Dursley pigs."

"_The_ Harry Potter? Oh my goodness, and me in a hospital gown and all, at a time like this. Oh, for goodness sake, how awkward. I am very pleased to meet you, Mr Potter, we've heard so much about you," the woman, at least as old as Arabella Figg, simpered.

"Aye, since he were two years old belike!" Arabella snorted in disgust. "Go to sleep, Phyllis, you are dreaming!"

"That wasn't kind," Harry sniggered, squeezing the old woman's hand gently. "I'm actually looking for Molly Weasley. Do you know if she is in here?"

"Yes, she brought someone new in a few hours ago and immediately put up the privacy curtain. I don't think they're holding out much hope for this new one, looked like a mummy with all those bandages and spell bindings on it. We couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman, to tell you the truth."

"Oh. Perhaps I shouldn't disturb her," Harry pondered softly.

"Aye, and perhaps you should. Sometimes, in those death watch situations, it's nice to know there are living folk about," Mrs Figg counselled gently. "Off you go lad, and quietly."

Standing up, Harry nodded, squeezed her hand and moved silently down the central aisle toward the closed privacy curtains. He wondered who would be so badly injured that they had to wrap him up like a mummy. Most wizarding medicine didn't require bandages or stitches or any of the other things Muggles took in their stride. Moving carefully and slowly, he eased his hand into the fold of privacy curtain and carefully moved it aside very slowly. The charms on the curtains allowed for slow movement, the rationale behind them saying that it gave time for the attendants to refuse entrance to a visitor. Anyone trying to move quickly would find the cloth took on the properties of steel plating.

Harry managed to put his head around the screen and glanced at the patient laying flat on the bed. He wasn't familiar so Harry ignored him as he looked further in for Molly. He spotted her slumped in a chair beside the bed, her head tipped to one side, resting on her hand. She looked very uncomfortable and cold as he eased in, the black circles under her eyes so very dark she looked like a panda. Taking his wand out slowly, Harry very carefully wove a warming spell around the sleeping woman, a half smile curving his lips as she moved and smiled in her sleep.

Turning to leave, Harry nearly shrieked when he realised the man on the bed was now sitting bolt upright, his eyes wide open. He must have been tall as his face was on the same level as Harry's, so close their noses almost bumped as Harry turned away from Molly. The squeak of surprise was cut short as the man's black eyes caught Harry's green and froze him to the spot. There was no iris to those eyes, only pupil, black and reflection-less, bottomless pits of blackness sucking him into another place.

"_From Elder Snake to Younger Lion,_

_In marble cold, holds the timeless bier_

_Come to__ the Blood, through Fire rising,_

_The Phoenix shall give up its eld."_

Harry knew the voice, knew it as well as he knew his own but could not place it, no matter how hard he tried. Even worse, he could not move away, as he felt something touch the side of his hair then settle around his neck. Whatever it was, it moved against his chest and seemed to snuggle down under his clothes. Frozen in place with never a spell whispered, Harry was unable to move or do anything to stop it. For a horrible moment he was suspended in a limbo of nothingness, worse even than when he shared Voldemort's dreams. Then he was free.

His breath came out in a shuddering gasp as he realised he was staring into the man's eyes, his forehead resting lightly against the stranger's. Realising his limbs were now free, Harry all but threw himself away from the man who slowly sank backwards until he was once again lying as still and as unmoving as an effigy. Molly snorted a little in her sleep, the ordinary sounds of the ward coming over the privacy screen in the normal, muffled way. For a moment Harry wondered if he had dreamed the whole episode but then he felt some odd weight around his neck. Moving cautiously, he pulled the neck of his shirt out with one finger and peered down at his chest. There was definitely something there but it was snuggled tight to his upper breastbone and he couldn't see it.

Curious, he eased out of the security screen and headed for one of the mirrors on the ballroom wall near the door, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Before he could take a proper look the door opened a crack and both Ron and Hermione slipped in, both staring at him in surprise.

"Harry…. Why are you half undressed?" Hermione asked curiously, keeping her voice down to a low murmur.

"I-I…. The oddest thing just happened to me," he muttered, turning back to the mirror and pulling his shirt open while peering in the mirror.

"Whoa! Now that is beautiful, seriously creepy, but beautiful," Ron remarked, peering over one shoulder while Hermione peered around the other arm.

"It's a serpent, a cloisonné serpent on a gold chain," Hermione said knowledgably. "It looks really old and very well made, a hand-made piece, not a mass-produced one. Where did you get it?"

"Your mother's patient just gave it to me," Harry told them, slipping his fingers under the gold chain and trying to pull it off but the chain appeared to be too short. "What? But he didn't undo the catch; he just slipped the chain over my head!" He pulled on the two ends but could not snap the chain either.

Ron grabbed it with both very large hands and tried his strength, only letting go when the chain seemed to shrink and try to strangle Harry. "This is bad, very bad," he remarked to his best friend as Harry gagged a little then realised the chain had again lengthened to a comfortable, but not removable, length.

"Well, it's obviously a wizard's piece of jewellery or it wouldn't try to be irremovable. Perhaps we should ask Mr Weasley or Professor Lupin about this?" Hermione counselled sensibly.

"Remus is here? Where?" Harry demanded.

"Oh, he's here alright but he's not like he used to be, believe me!" Ron smirked as Hermione led the way to the kitchen.

Harry eyed the hole in the wall with disbelief as they passed it, Tonks having hung a curtain up over the gap. At the kitchen door Harry paused for a moment then grinned widely when he saw his Godfather sprawled in the chair, a foot hooked on the far rung as he teased Tonks who was cooking something. Laughing, he flung himself forward, hugging the werewolf unselfconsciously as Remus caught his balance and the young man who was pounding on his back.

"Harry! It's so good to see you! When did you get here? _How_ did you get here?" Remus demanded, pushing him back to arms' length and studying him closely. "Are you in trouble?"

"No, of course not, or at least, I don't think so. Hey, have you ever seen anything like this?" he asked, opening his shirt again.

"Phew! That's an expensive piece of glitter, no doubt about that!" Remus commented, lifting it with a finger and studying the intricate scales on the snake carefully. "A bit of an odd piece for a Gryffindor to start wearing, don't you think?"

Tonks turned and gaped at the snake pendant but even as she opened her mouth to comment, there was a blinding burst of light from the snake's eyes that sent Remus toppling back off his chair and Tonks diving for her wand which was on the bench. Harry squawked indignantly as his best friends drew their wands on his Godfather and his friend even as Remus straightened but did not put away the wand that had all but leaped into his hand.

"Now that was an interesting thing," the werewolf remarked softly, staring at Harry's neck with narrowed golden eyes. Before anyone could react, he cast _Acclaro_ with a twist and whistled silently at the results, Tonks following suit as she lowered her wand, too. "There's no evil in it and now it is a Light symbol rather than a snake."

"What? What's happening? Guys! Hey, guys! Talk to me, please!" Harry was totally ignored as his friends examined and admired his pendant until he simply buttoned up his shirt again. "Have I your attention, now? Good! What the hell happened just then?"

"Harry, language," Remus said almost reflexively and Ron burst out laughing, making the werewolf blush vividly. Ignoring the redhead's almost silent teasing of, '_don't do as I do, do as I say,_' he cancelled his _Acclaro_ spell and set his chair back on its legs before seating himself again. "The snake turned into a phoenix, just as perfect in every detail."

Harry blinked then his eyes went round as something seemed to take over his mouth for a few moments.

"_From Elder Snake to Younger Lion,_

_In marble cold, holds the timeless bier_

_Come to__ the Blood, through Fire rising,_

_The Phoenix shall give up its eld."_

It was gone instantly and he coughed hackingly as Hermione reached into her inner robes for her ever-present notebook to copy the verse down. "What appalling metre but it has that sort of 'Trelawney' feel to it. Harry, how do you feel?" she asked with clinical interest.

"Really, really cranky!" he snapped glaring around impartially. "First, I get assaulted by a patient, who gives me a mysterious pendant and a very bad poem, then my Godfather attacks me with a flash spell, and then I am told I have a phoenix around my neck instead of a snake…"

"I didn't flash you, the snake flashed me as it became a phoenix," Remus corrected softly.

"… and everyone is pointing wands at me like I was a bad guy," Harry finished in aggrieved tones that sounded a lot like a petulant whine even in his own ears.

"I think you have just been assaulted by an incoming prophesy," Tonks said lightly but her hair was a plain brown, a good indicator that she was both serious and unsure.

Hermione nodded sagely while Ron's jaw dropped as he stared from one person to the other. Tonks leaned over and pushed his jaw up with a finger tip as she scattered plates over the table as if she was dealing cards. With a practiced flip of her wand, she landed a heaped platter of bacon, eggs, and sausage followed by a bowl of baked beans and a bowl of chips onto the table.

"If you want toast, burn your own," she commented as she flung herself into the nearest chair which tottered undecidedly before landing on four legs and dug in only a fraction of a second behind Remus. "That snake pendant was around Snape's neck when I saw it a few hours ago and it was impossible to take off. It was magically attached of course, but nothing special."

Remus raised his eyebrows questioningly, his mouth full of sausage and eggs. Before he could swallow, Ron clicked his tongue in enlightenment. "'Elder Snake' is Snape of course and 'Younger Lion' is Harry. The 'whatever it is' has passed from the snake to the lion already." It was Hermione's turn to gape at her friend in surprise making him blush vividly. "What? It's really obvious, isn't it?"

"Earth to flame. Snakes live in the earth and Phoenixes renew in fire so that would mean the change in the pendant, wouldn't it?" Harry muttered then shook his head. "No, that's not right it's '_Come to the Blood, through Fire Rising_,' sounds like something is being summoned."

"Well, the last line is sort of rhetorical, new phoenixes always leave the old one in the ashes, everyone knows that but what the hell is an eld?."

"But this seems to imply that the phoenix is giving something besides itself, do you see? And to which phoenix is it referring?" Remus asked around a large mouthful of food. He shrugged when he realised he had their undivided attention. "In the time of the greatest persecution of witches in Germany, the code phrase for the freeing of a witch was 'the phoenix has risen from the ashes', just a bit of trivia for you. The phoenix could be a person, a cause, a thing or even a bird, and that is what we need to work out before we can decide what an 'eld' is."

"I wonder if there is a reference in the library," Hermione mused, picking at the second breakfast while the boys dug in enthusiastically. She noticed Professor Lupin took frequent pulls from the bottle that sat at his elbow and every time he did Tonks' grin grew wider. Leaning across to the older witch, Hermione murmured, "What are you planning?"

"Not a thing," Tonks assured her with a twinkle and a wink. "Being a metamorph-magus has advantages and I plan to practice my talent at any point I can. After all, practice makes perfect, and he doesn't like 'little girls'."

"Very true," Remus replied, his grin showing a lot of teeth as he blinked innocently.

Tonks grinned back then casually filched a piece of bacon off Harry's plate to replace the sausage and bacon Remus had just stolen from her. Harry frowned and pinched Ron's food making him howl and stab Hermione's last sausage as she shook her head in resignation. "Do they ever grow up?" she asked rhetorically and Tonks giggled as Remus stole Hermione's eggs to clear her plate.

"Not so you'd notice," Remus murmured wickedly as he finished his plateful, more than both boys managed to demolish together. "That hit the spot," he nodded and blew Tonks a kiss before finishing the bottle of chocolate liqueur and belching quietly into his hand as he rose. "Well, I had better have a quick word with Arthur and Draco before I push off again."

"What do wombats and werewolves have in common?" Tonks said in a non sequitur to Hermione, making the boys frown and shake their heads at the silliness of women in general and these two in particular. When Hermione grinned and shook her head a little, Tonks pursed her lips and spoke at a more normal tone. "Eats, roots and leaves."

There was a splutter of laughter from the students and Remus, poised in the doorway, burst out laughing. "Is that an offer?" he asked the grinning Tonks, ignoring the other three totally.

Tonks wiggled her eyebrows and followed him out. "Take care of the dishes, guys," she tossed over her shoulder as they disappeared.

"I don't know if I should laugh or barf," Ron muttered, his ears bright red.

"I guess we're all grown up now," Hermione replied thoughtfully as she gathered the dishes and sent them over to the sink with a charm.

"An off-colour joke makes you conclude that?" Ron questioned incredulously as he put away the dishes Harry washed and Hermione dried Muggle fashion.

"Well, would either our Professor or an Auror make such a joke in the presence of children? Of course not, ickle kiddies need to be protected from such nasty topics so yes, I'd say we have finally been accepted as grown-ups." Hermione nodded decisively.

"What gets me is how can Remus laugh when his world is crashing down around him?" Harry burst out resentfully. "They have revoked the rights of werewolves to own property…"

"...or have the raising of children," Ron continued grimly. "I overheard Tonks and Professor Lupin talking in the sitting room. Remus said Sirius wanted him to adopt you too, Harry, but he wouldn't let Sirius put his name on the documents in case they used it against you. And he was right; our Percy told Professor McGonagall about it before the ministry could take you away."

"I know, Sirius told me just before…. He also told me – and this is in strictest confidence – that he was married to Remus and stuff – yes Hermione, they were gay and married very quietly when they first left school, is that a problem for you? – And that I was to watch out for Remus just as Remus would look out for me. It was a bit of an eye opener but not hard to accept once I got used to the idea. Actually, it sort of made me feel better about Sirius dying even if Remus wasn't officially named, do you see?"

Before they could get any further into the discussion, Arthur Weasley came in and stopped short to see his youngest son and his friends sitting at the table. "What are you lot still doing here, especially as it is a school weekend?" he asked in surprise but without anger.

"Er, Hi, Dad, I – I… that is…." Ron took a deep breath then let it out in a whoosh. "Sit down Dad, I have something to discuss with you, something important."

"Do you want us to leave?" Hermione asked delicately.

"Nah, it concerns Harry too, and you, I suppose," Ron said offhandedly making his father stare at his perceived rudeness and Hermione roll her eyes. "Look Dad, Professor McGonagall has invited Hestia Jones and Mad Eye Moody to come to school and begin giving Auror training to any candidate who meets the academic and practical criteria. Harry and I took the tests last month and we have both been accepted."

"Well, congratulations boys, but your mother is going to go be a bit upset, you know, Ron. We would prefer you go into something a little less dangerous…" Arthur began then bit his lip as his youngest began to colour up.

"Like banking?" Ron snapped, then sighed and ducked his head. "Sorry, Dad, that was mean. Look, point one; we are going to have to battle, whether we like it or not and no one is going to be safe. Point two; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is going to come after Harry sometime and that is a given. Point three; we are going to be either next to Harry or near enough to get caught in the cross-fire, too. At least this way, we will both have a fighting chance to survive the encounter or at worst, do some real damage before…."

All three young people exchanged long and knowing looks, far too old for such young and bright faces, making Arthur's heart ache for them. They were not even eighteen yet and already resigned to looking death in the face. The most incredible part was their ability to laugh and enjoy their lives even though one of them had a death sentence hanging over his head and his two friends were voluntarily sharing in his fate without a qualm or a demure. Hopeful eyes watched him across the table as he sighed and rose.

"I'm very proud of you, Son, well done. Enjoy the training and don't worry about your mother, I'll make sure she understands. Well done, Harry, too, you'll both make very fine Aurors, I know." He held out his hand to both young men and added a good hug for both before putting his hands on his hips and staring across at all three. "It still doesn't explain why you are here instead of at Hogwarts."

"Er, well…" Ron began, but Harry cut him off with a grin.

"You see, Sir, we are playing hookey. It's a Hogsmeade weekend. Since we have our Apparation licenses, we just … popped in?"

Arthur snorted and shook his head, grinning back. "Don't get caught," was his only comment as he wandered out into the hallway. "Now, what am I going to do with this hole in the wall?" he mused aloud.

"Definitely growing up," Hermione grinned at her two best friends as they gathered their things in preparation for departure.


	8. He's Alive, but Living?

**Chapter 7** – _He's Alive, but Living?_

**Pretty dreams, my baby, wait  
Just beyond the Slumber Gate;  
Come, dreams,  
Come to baby, come;  
Come, dreams,  
Come to baby, come.**

French lullaby by LAE Poulsson, adapted by Terry Kluytmans

_The soft voice sang low and sweet, smooth as silk and gentle as a kiss. He forced his eyes open and looked up into a dearly beloved face smiling down at him. Long black ringlets fell over one shoulder, smelling of strawberries and lavender. A broad, intelligent forehead rose above winged black eyebrows, and dark, laughing eyes sparkled above high, sculpted cheekbones. Smooth olive skin, flawless and perfect, was soft under his fingers as he reached up to stroke one delicately tinted cheek. A cascade of diamonds and emeralds glittered under the curls, catching his eye and his fingers, making tinkling laughter come from the perfect red lips as his small, clutching fingers were disengaged from his mother's earrings. She was so beautiful!_

_Her face was gone, another taking its place, a stern and bitter visage, all lines and angles with a thin, pale, almost lipless mouth set in an uncompromising slash. "Leave the boy alone! Put him down this instant! You are coddling him, Silvana. You are supposed to be preparing yourself for the reception which starts in less than an hour. This is far too important to be late for. You know the Minister expects all his departmental heads and their wives to be on time and in position well before the rest of the guests arrive, so we had better hurry up. He will be fine with the house-elves, they are perfectly capable of looking after a child, or they wouldn't be Snape house-elves."_

_That voice made him cringe, harsh and cawing like a crow on a branch. That man always came and took his dear Mama away, stole her from him. Unfair, unfair! One day maybe the man would go away, and they could be safe and happy by themselves, his mama and him._

He knew what was coming, knew it was horrific but was powerless to stop it as the scene unfolded.

_The house-elf held him tight, but the tiny creature could not prevent _Her_ from tearing him out of its arms and tossing him on the bed. He cried, terrified by this vision so like _him_ but worse, much worse, tearing the clothes from his body, pinching and poking, stabbing him with a sharp blade. She swore, bad words that Mama did not like to hear, and she hit him and stabbed him again, forcing his mouth open until he could taste a funny taste in his mouth. She swore again, louder this time, and dribbled a really horrible drink into his mouth until he choked and coughed and swallowed between his screams. He couldn't spit it out; she pinched his nose and shook him until he could barely breathed, then she stared at him, her eyes just as sharp as the knife she had cut his hand with. Shaking her head, she tossed him down on the bed so that he bounced and tried to scramble away, but she caught his ankle and pulled him back again. Then the attempt to suffocate him came. The plump, soft pillow over his face, pressing down, was cutting off breath, blackness dancing before his…._

oo0oo

Molly jumped awake as the alarm charm shrilled a warning. For a fraction of a second she was disoriented, wondering where she was, then she realised her charge was not breathing. The deathly pale man did not move at all, his chest did not rise or fall as she slammed a spell into him, trying to restart his heart and lungs. There was no response to the standard spell, no answering beat of a heart or the throb of life in the vein. Frantic, she worked like a Trojan to bring him back on life, a second pair of hands working with her as spells were cast and physical efforts made. Suddenly, the long, thin man began to gasp for breath on his own, dragging in great lungsful and whimpering.

"That was close," Roger remarked wiping his forehead as they both collapsed into chairs by the bedside. "Damn! He's gone into tremors again. Bloody Cruciatus Curse, no wonder it is on the list of Unforgivables! Its consequences are vicious and just never ending. Here, help me get this potion down his throat before he tears all our good spell work apart again."

The rigid shakes made it hard to prise the man's jaw open and force the potion down his throat. There was added resistance as if the man fought their efforts with everything he had, doing his best to keep his mouth firmly closed against their intrusion. Then Molly had to massage his throat to make him swallow rather than choke on the brew. As the tremors slowly faded, the Potions Master became limp and unresponsive again, sinking down into the mattress until there was barely a hump where his body lay. Such a thin man had little in reserve to help bolster himself against the damages that the residual curses continued to inflict and to assist in the healing.

Roger looked down at the disguised face and shook his head slowly. "If he doesn't start swallowing voluntarily in the next few hours, we may have to let him slip away, Molly, you know that," he remarked sorrowfully, meeting her shocked and disbelieving gaze with compassionate eyes. "If he has so few autonomous functions and cannot even swallow for himself, then what sort of life will he have? We can't put him into St Mungo's or they will take him, and you know what will happen to him then. Better he is allowed to die with a little dignity here than be tortured and mutilated, displayed and defiled by Death Eaters when he has no means of defending himself. You know that is what will happen, you know it!"

Molly opened her mouth to refute but then closed it with a snap as she couldn't. Every word Roger spoke was the absolute truth, and there was no real way to refute his prognosis. "I'll look after him, I'm good at looking after people," she muttered, not meeting the healer's eyes. "He just needs a chance for some peace, a little time to rest and recuperate without anyone forcing him to do anything, including wake up, that's all. Off you go now, sorry to disturb your rest," she muttered mutinously.

Roger shook his head sadly and squeezed her shoulder as he passed out of the privacy curtains. Molly was the kindest and most cooperative of souls until she got a bee in her bonnet, and then she was as stubborn as any witch ever born. Usually he thought that stubbornness was a good thing but now that he was knocking his head against it, he was somewhat annoyed that she didn't accept his diagnosis. After all, he was the resident medical authority, wasn't he? And she was just a glorified nursing assistant. Sighing at his uncharitable thoughts, Roger returned to his bed.

oo0oo

"_He is _human_! The useless brat is absolutely and completely human, without a glimmer of hope or a trace of bloodlust, and therefore is of no use to anyone!" The scream of fury tore through the room, blasting the small family assembled before the throne-like chair in the Great Hall. The riding crop slashed the air and cracked resoundingly on the side of the throne where the Matriarch sat in state._

_Clutched tightly in his mother's arms, Sevvy hid his face in her sweet smelling hair and whimpered a little. He knew that voice and that face, and it utterly terrified him. "Bad lady hurt Sevvy," he whispered in his mother's ear with a sniffle that was almost inaudible._

"_Shut that squalling brat up!" Madam Veraline Snape snarled pointing a long bony finger at the younger woman she had hand-selected to be her heir's wife. What a mistake that was proving to be. Maria Silvana le Toya had the perfect bloodlines to match with the Snape family line breeding programme, but for some reason she had failed to share the genes Veraline most coveted. Veraline knew she could breed a perfect vampire who felt the need to feed without having a bite infection and all the problems that brought with it. A perfectly uncommitted vampire who owed loyalty to no one but himself was a thing to be desired above all others. "Thaddeus, my son, you have failed to breed the perfect heir and that is not good enough. I want a real Heir, a vampire to open the vault without encumbrances, not that puling brat, so see to it!"_

"_Yes, Mother," the crow man cawed, backing away and taking his wife and son with him, out of the hall, out of the presence, out of her reach for a few blessed moments. He would barely admit it to himself, but his mother terrified him with her single-minded drive to create the perfect Snape vampire. "Keep him quiet or she will hurt him," he hissed a warning at his young and frightened wife._

"_Sevvy says she already has. I told you those bruises I found on Sevvy after the Reception last month were not made by any house-elf's hands," Silvana hissed back, holding her baby close and muffling his terrified whimpering with her shoulder. The baby struggled as if he could not breathe properly, and she eased her hold on his head, letting him look up at her as she gazed down in worry. "What is it, Sevvy? Did I hurt you?"_

"_Bad lady didded it," Sevvy gasped, fear retreating until the man peered at him over his mother's shoulders. Then he keened and purposefully buried his face in his mother's shoulder again._

"_How can he look like __**that**__ and not be a vampire?" Thaddeus Snape demanded angrily, the baby was a carbon copy of him and growing more like him every day. Unfortunately, Thaddeus was not a vampire either and the child was __**exactly**__ like him, almost in every way. "Mother wants us to have another child so we had better be prepared to do it," he added, kissing his wife's neck on the other side, away from his eldest and only off-spring._

"_Yes, Thaddeus," Maria Silvana Snape said submissively, but her arms tightened around her baby tightly enough to raise another protest from the eighteen-month old child._

oo0oo

Three times in the next hour Severus Snape stopped breathing completely, twice his heart stopped beating and he was all but dead. Molly brought him back again and again with the dogged determination of a pit bull with a bone. Roger stared at her when she raised a hand as if to hit him for suggesting once again that it would be a kindness to let Severus go the next time he stopped breathing.

"NO! _He_ isn't getting even one more of mine, do you hear?" Molly screamed at the healer in a fury of denial, her wand extended and quivering to the beat of her anger. "Severus is as much a part of this Order as any of us, and you have no right to deny him a chance of life, none at all! I will not give up, ever! How dare you even stand there and suggest such a thing to my face. How dare you!"

Arthur wrapped his arms around his distraught wife and held her close as she began to sob in overwrought exhaustion, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing noises in her ear. "There, there, Molly Dearest, just rest now, it will be alright, you'll see. I promise I will keep watch over Severus and make sure he is alive when you wake up again. If I can't keep him alive, I'll wake you before he goes so you can be here. Deal?"

Molly sniffed and nodded, the years of trust in her eyes as Arthur kissed her brow and made her rest on one of the cots close by. She went reluctantly and lay down fully clothed, but her days of stress and magical outpourings came home to roost, dragging her down into sleep before her head even touched the pillows.

"If he dies, you know she is going to blame herself," Arthur said flatly, pulling the thin cover up to her chin and smoothing it down. A wealth of love shone in his eyes as he stared at the woman who had been his wife for over thirty-five years.

Roger stirred restlessly, uncomfortably in the face of such naked emotion. "I know, but, Arthur, he is hovering on the brink, he may slip over at any moment. I can do no more for him, it's up to his own resources now and he has very little in reserve. If he lives or dies, it is by his own will."

"Severus may not be very fit or strong but he has a great will to live, if only to make sure that You-Know-Who dies before him."

"Noble ambition," Roger mused, not at all facetiously as he settled down near the Weasleys. "I suppose it won't hurt to keep a bit of a watch on him, will it?"

"Not at all," Arthur agreed with a grateful smile.

oo0oo

"_**Day is done and night is near,  
Off to sleep now, baby dear;  
Come, dreams,  
Come to baby, come;  
Come, dreams,  
Come to baby, come."**_

_Sevvy snuggled down in his mother's arms, the bulge of her stomach moving protestingly under his weight. Silvana laughed at both her children's indignation. "This is your baby sister," Silvana whispered in Sevvy's ear making him giggle and squirm when it tickled. "You will be a big brother, and you must look after your little sister. You will watch over her, my big boy, won't you?"_

_Sevvy wrinkled his nose in thought then nodded vigorously. "Will she play with me?" he asked curiously, patting his mother's dress with a small, gentle hand. He knew what 'gentle' was, and he knew what 'hurt' was, and he always made sure he was gentle; he didn't want to make hurt for anyone. He knew what hurt was, and he didn't like it at all!_

_Silvana smiled painfully into the silky soft hair that smelled of baby potions and little boy. "When she gets big enough she will play with you, and you can sing her the song, if you like. You have a good voice for singing, my little one."_

"_**Weary you must be with play,  
Running, running, all the day;  
Come, dreams,  
Come to baby, come;  
Come, dreams,  
Come to baby, come."**_

_The child's thin treble and the woman's rich contralto voices blended sweetly and floated out of the nursery to where Thaddeus Snape hovered in the hallway, fearful, grieving and angry. It was all for nothing, everything was for nothing! The new baby in his wife's belly was a stupid, useless girl! His mother had cast the spell herself, despite Silvana's protests and attempts to foil the magic. It revealed that the unborn child was a daughter, not even a boy, and even less desirable than the current heir who was at least male. Veraline had given him very specific orders, both mother and child were to be put down immediately and the boy was to be present. He was to watch what happened to anyone who thwarted the orders of the Matriarch in any way. Steeling himself, Thaddeus thrust open the door and entered the nursery, making Silvana jerk around and the boy to sit up abruptly, wide black eyes suddenly narrowing as they stared at him, hatred already blooming there._

"_Silvana, stand the boy over there on the hearthrug. Severus, you are to stay absolutely still, hands at your side, chin up. Good! At least you have learned to obey me in that much!" Thaddeus glared at the child then cast a quick, silent spell over the boy, making sure he could not move or even shut his eyes._

_Severus tried with all his might to move but could barely make his feet shuffle as his father moved closer to his mother and sister. Jealousy flared in Severus' heart as he watched his father, wishing the man would disappear for ever and leave him and his mother alone!_

_His mother stood equally still, only her head moved in a tiny negating motion. "Will you not at least wait long enough to spare our daughter?" she whispered but read the answer in her husband's bleak and soulless gaze. "Then let Sevvy go. He does not need to be present for this, does he?"_

"_He must learn the price of disobedience," Thaddeus said flatly, placing his hand on her cheek and running it gently down to her long, white throat in a parody of a loving caress. Silvana shivered fearfully, held in thrall by the man's snake-like gaze. "I loved you and I will miss you, but I must obey the Matriarch, you know that, my beautiful, useless wife."_

_Sevvy screamed, a soundless, wordless wail of horror as his father calmly and efficiently crushed his mother's throat, the pale, pale skin growing blue and mottled, the terrified eyes bulging out of their sockets as she clawed at his hands in terror. His little sister kicked too, making his mother's dress move for some minutes after his mother fell bonelessly to the floor, utterly still. Thaddeus turned to glare at the child who had caused his mother to order his wife's death. The useless, worthless, human child who stood at rigid attention, his eyes glued open and horror pouring from his skin in palpable waves._

"_This was all your fault, you pitiful excuse for an Heir, you caused their deaths and so on your head be it!"_

_He whirled away, leaving the child to shuffle painfully toward his mother's body, unable to mourn or cry or rage, held helplessly to attention in the thrall of a cruel and unending spell._


	9. Hunter and Hunted

**Chapter 8** – _Hunter and Hunted_

Leaning his forearms on the dark wood bar, Remus took another sip of his whiskey and snarled impartially at the middle distance. The noise and smoke were thick around him, too many bodies in too small a space. The stench of humanity was cloying and inviting at only six days until moon. He wanted to get drunk, hit something, shag someone into the carpet or simply curl up in a ball in a quiet corner and cry his eyes out. That thought made him laugh aloud, knocking back the last of his drink to drown the bitter noise. If he did that, it would be the last thing he ever did in this rabid den of mixed bikers, truckers and wanna-be hard men.

Spinning around, he leaned his back against the bar and hooked his elbows onto the brass rail, one booted foot crossed over the other. Three men at the far table perked up considerably as he stood there openly and half-smashed, a small, slim, easy target. A hank of his hair slid down over one eye, and he didn't bother to move it as he straightened and headed carefully for the men's toilets at the other side of the bar. He felt rather than saw the three men rise to follow him as he shouldered into the putrid smelling area and headed for the urinals as if to relieve his bladder. The door swung again, staying open too long to be just one person entering; they were there, right behind him.

The wind of a fist passing over ruffled his hair as he ducked and spun on his toes, taking the off-balance attacker in the belly with a hard, straight right. Physical action always felt good, and he revelled in his strength and power as the three men tried valiantly to subdue the tough little nut they had picked as an easy mark. Remus grinned ferally, a snarl showing off all his teeth as he slammed another body to the floor and put the boot in a couple of times to finish him off.

Someone shouted a warning, and he sucked in his belly as a roundhouse fist glittered with steel in its depths. The tip laid open his t-shirt and the first two layers of skin as neatly as a surgeon's knife. Breath hissing, Remus leaped straight up and kicked the man in the jaw before the pain kicked in and he howled aloud. Man and knife landed sprawled on the floor while the werewolf landed on his toes and one hand, the other pressing to his gut, a little fearful that it would all fall out, his eyes darting to make sure he was not about to be attacked.

A tall black-haired man had just finished the last of the three who had attacked him and was turning to look at the supposed victim of the vicious attack. Remus glared at him, ready to take on a fourth attacker if that became relevant, but the man merely held out his hands palm up, a slight smile on his face. He gave off a strong, almost alpha smell that made Remus snarl even further, his eyes widening at the sight.

"Oh no, no challenge," he muttered swiftly, ducking his head and shaking it swiftly as he unconsciously exposed his throat to the wolf. "I am Patrick O'Leary. These three bova boys have been trying to find some action all night, and when I saw them follow you in, I followed just to be sure they weren't contemplating murder; but they were, it seems. Come on, I'll help you home and get the wife to have a look at that."

Remus allowed the man to slip an arm around his shoulders and take some of his weight but wondered if he could _Obliviate_ the chap later, once they were out of there. He didn't trust this large Irishman's altruism, not now, not at this point. Still, he really needed help to get out of the Muggle pub and to somewhere he could heal himself in peace and comfort. Unfortunately, having taken a wound on top of the alcohol he had consumed, apparition was out of the question just now. Patrick O'Leary helped him down the street and into a fenced garden where vegetables grew in well-tended rows. The house was square and ugly but the windows shone with yellow light, and chintz curtains added a homey touch as they pushed into the back door.

A small woman stood at the stove stirring a pot of something as they stumbled into the back door and O'Leary deposited him in a chair at the scrubbed table. Remus groaned as his backside hit the padded wood, his stomach now becoming very painful as it bled down into the tops of his jeans, soaking them. There was a conference over his head, and a small hand eased him back, pulling the material away from his stomach with a gentle touch.

"This is bad, Paddy, very nasty. We may have to…"

The tingle of magic made Remus throw himself aside, his wand leaping to his hand as he bounced up to his feet, swaying dizzily but his wand remained rock-steady, even as he cast _Protego_ over himself.

"Well, that seems to settle that," Paddy said in self-satisfaction, his own wand held negligently in one hand while his wife's was held defensively before her. "So you are a wizard, I sort of thought you were. So are we, wizard kind, that is. You want to sit down before you fall down?"

Remus blinked, then straightened a little as he fumbled back into the seat. "I had better warn you before you offer any more help that I am a lycanthrope, and my blood may be contagious so close to Moon."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Paddy, you can really pick them, can't you?" Judy O'Leary snorted as she lowered her wand. "Let me look at your stomach then."

Paddy grinned, knowing his wife's manner and her gentleness were directly in opposition, the nastier she sounded the gentler her touch. It seemed to take his find by surprise as the small man allowed her to ease the material aside and cast an _Acclaro_ over him. The wound was nasty, but only dangerous at one end of the eight-inch slash where it had dug in a little deeper and nicked an intestine. "What's your name, lad?" he asked as his wife went to work with the healing spells.

"Lupin, Remus Lupin," Remus said and sucked a breath as the spell hooked something deep inside his gut.

"Beta Prime!" The exclamation made both Remus and O'Leary's wife pause as Paddy nodded his head respectfully. "It's nice to meet you in the flesh, so to speak. I have heard of you in the packs and on the wind but…."

"You are a werewolf, too, then?" Remus managed to ask as the woman continued her ministrations.

"Turned four years ago," Paddy said bitterly. "I got caught out on the way home from the pub of all places. Never gave it a thought until it was too late. Usually there are warnings if there are werewolves about, but with the attacks and everything…," he trailed off bitterly.

"Quite. Are there many of us around here and are any of them blatantly Dark?" Remus asked keenly.

"There used to be!" Judy O'Leary answered with a bitterness that made Remus' eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "We killed him, or as the Ministry so delicately termed it, we put the animal down when he became rabid." The word 'Ministry' was spat out like a mouthful of poison. "He was one of You-Know-Who's minions, using his disease to manufacture his own recruits for that, that…" She spluttered to a halt when she realised her husband was watching her in amusement. "What?"

"Aye, yer a true fighter, Mrs O'Leary," he said fondly. "She was so incensed she led the charge, and the ladies of the town took him out neatly."

"Well done, someone like that gives all werewolves a bad name, and we really don't need any adverse publicity at this point. Who was it?" Remus asked, feeling a lot better now that the spells were finished and his gut was not torn in two.

"One of the Rosier family, a cadet branch admittedly but still enough to give us a hard time for a while," Paddy replied, pouring tea for all three of them. "So, may I ask what you are doing in this part of the world and why you let those three idiots corner you?" The questions were shrewd but delivered in a conversational tone.

"I just needed to blow off a little steam," Remus admitted sheepishly. "Oh, I knew they were Muggles and couldn't really hurt me too much but…." He broke off as a clean shirt landed in his lap with a '_humph'_ of disgust and a muttered comment that sounded a lot like 'stupid boys'. Paddy and he traded glances and both winced, but they both understood the urges that drove them at this time of month. It was those urges that gave the Wild Wolves such a fearsome reputation as they did nothing to curb the impulses that ruled them.

"There's a wild pack in the area, camping with the gypsies on the last of Hampstead Heath," Paddy informed him as Remus pulled on the clean t-shirt and cast a quick cleaning spell over his jeans. "They are wild boys but not particularly malicious yet. One of the Snake's people was hanging around, buying drinks and making 'idle talk', you know how it goes."

Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead. "The Alpha Prime does not want us to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He wants us to be neutral if possible and a little more Light than neutral if we can…."

"And the Ministry encourages this how?" Judy O'Leary snapped, thumping bowls of soup and a loaf of bread on the table in front of them.

"It doesn't. The Ministry is controlled by Death Eaters or their sympathisers. They have tried to have Harry taken into their custody. They have tried to discredit him and break him over the last couple of years. And finally, they tried to engage his sympathetic support after the murder of his Godfather when their attempts to destroy both his spirit and his credibility failed, but they haven't succeeded, thank Merlin. The death of Dumbledore was a blow like no other, but it was not a death blow for the Light. We are all still there, and we are all still fighting. To do any less would be a repudiation of all we believe in and all we hold dear."

The O'Learys looked at each other, an indefinable message passing between them, then Paddy smiled. "We're in. It's not much, but if ever you need us, we will be there. Just send a message or floo us."

"Appreciate it," Remus said as the two men shook hands solemnly.

"Well, now that that is understood, eat your supper before it gets too cold!" Judy shook her head fondly as she took her place.

oo0oo

The camp was sprawling, a row of caravans to the left, cars rather than horses lined up to tow them when the Muggle council finally moved the gypsies on. Fireplaces of ringed stone were clustered near the stream's bank, tripods for cauldrons smoke-blackened and in place. Gypsies might be Muggles, but there was enough wizarding blood in their veins to make even a wolf sit back and take notice. In the past centuries, it was not unusual for a Squib who was cast out from his family to join the local gypsies; the gypsies used to appreciate the source of new blood in their lines. Of course, in these modern times, the distrust and uneasiness sown first by Grindelwald and then by Voldemort had caused the insular gypsy bands to grow even more so.

To the right of the vans was a motley collection of tents, tarps and canvas bedrolls, strewn in haphazard circles to denote current alliances. It wasn't often that wolves and gypsies shared the same campsite, but it was an indicator that the wild wolves were planning some sort of trouble. Remus wasn't sure if they planned to harass the gypsies, but if they were, then they were in for a rude shock. Whoever had thought of that plan was obviously naïve or simply had no idea of the power of the gypsies. Or perhaps they did and hoped the gypsies and wolves would join in a mutually destructive fight over space.

Entering the campsite, Remus looked around and made a mental note of where everyone had decided to place their beds. Wild wolves tended to lean on the instinctive knowledge their lycanthropy gave them as the bonds of civilisation grew more tenuous. There were at least four factions in this nebulous pack, according to the nesting circles, two allied with each other, two diametrically opposed to each other.

The alphas of each of the four circles were not hard to spot, two were people he knew. Paddy O'Connell or Roarer was an old acquaintance, his position in the Prime Pack well known. He was a moderate, wanting more rights for werewolves, but he didn't want to destroy the wizarding world to get them. Maxilan Hamilton or Wind Biter didn't care how werewolves achieved equality, as long as it was real equality, not a paper-based equality that gave only lip service to their rights. The two alphas he didn't know were obviously acting as arbiters between the two factions as indicated by the camp circles.

Squatting on the grass at the 'head' position, between the camp and the water, Remus conjured a fire and calmly began to make tea, cinnamon tea with toast, from the supplies provided by Judy O'Leary. The fire was all but smokeless, only the grass under it being solid fuel, but it was enough to start noses twitching and wolves stirring. Calmly and with total ease, Remus made and consumed his breakfast while ignoring the growing circle of faces ranging from curious to angry.

Cradling a mug of tea in his hands, Remus looked up and acknowledged the two alphas he knew in the circle, pointing to the grass opposite him with a regal hand. The hiss of speculation and unrest swept through the almost silent circle as the two alphas actually bowed their heads to the stranger and lowered themselves warily to the grass. Mugs appeared before them, curls of steam wafting up from the mahogany liquid in the surreal silence.

"It's cinnamon," Remus remarked, sipping from his own mug casually.

"It would be," O'Connell replied softly, picking up the mug and drinking, causing his own faction to back off and settle down. They didn't know who this small intruder was, but he was obviously more than he seemed.

Hamilton eyed the mug uneasily, but picked it up all the same. He drank a little of the brew, enough to satisfy tradition and settle his followers but no more. He knew Remus Lupin and had fought and lost to him on two occasions, acknowledged him as the second in charge of the Primary Pack in Great Britain, but that didn't mean he liked the man or the role he had been forced into. And besides, he didn't like cinnamon tea. As he looked up he caught the laughing amber eyes studying him, assessing him, and sighed, realising he was caught in the ritual now.

"Did those two pussies just roll over and beg?" someone hissed from the crowd, a wave of hostility suddenly jolting the gathering back to fever pitch.

"They acknowledge the Beta Prime," Remus said mildly, taking a bite out of his toast as he again swept the crowd with hooded eyes, noting the trouble makers.

A burley, barrel-shaped man pushed to the front, swaggering and sneering as he stared down at the insignificant looking chap who was calmly eating his breakfast. The other two alphas obligingly slid away from the fire leaving a wide grassy surface for the display. They had been there at the time, and they had seen exactly what Thaddeus Horfund was seeing now. They had been put on their backs, and they still didn't know how a skinny, short-arsed shrimp like Remus Lupin had done it. Still, it would be good for a laugh.

"Beta Prime? What nonsense is this? There are Alphas and there are Betas, but no one is prime over others. Oh, I've heard of Hayborn's wild and crazy scheme of bringing us all into one big happy family under the rule of the Wizengamot, but only domestic animals would submit to that indignity!"

Remus immediately knew where this alpha's loyalties lay, and it wasn't with his. "Rather the rule of the Wizengamot than being slaves to the Dark Lord," he replied softly, never taking his eyes off the man who was pacing and gesticulating, obviously playing to the audience. "Besides, as werewolves, McCarthy wants us to have our own rules and laws to live by that do not bring us into conflict with the Wizengamot but do allow us to live as we wish."

"Hiding in corners, making no waves, pretending we don't exist? Is that how you see us; as outcasts, curs, children of the night?"

The rush came on the last word, the man lashing out a foot over the flames aiming for Remus' head. Rolling backward, Remus bounced to his feet and slammed the steel-capped toe of his boot into the man's thigh muscle, neatly corking his leg. Thaddeus gave a cry of pain as he doubled over, and Remus slammed an elbow between his shoulder blades, ramming his face into the dirt. One knee on the back of his neck held him as Remus wrapped a hand in his thick brown hair and dragged his head back until his throat was completely exposed; wrapping his free hand around the vulnerable length he dug a thumb into the mastoid bone until his quarry stopped struggling.

Leaning forward, Remus murmured in his ear. "If I roll back your left sleeve, will I find the branding of a slave? Or the clear flesh of a patriot?"

"Fuck off, you little worm, I'll kill you!" Horfund roared bitterly, struggling to get out of the hold to no avail.

Smiling slightly, Remus pulled harder on his hair, digging his thumb in deeper despite the bucking that became frenzied as black spots danced before Horfund's eyes. Finally, his struggles became limp thrashings, then vague twitches, then stillness. Sneering, Remus eased the pressure off his throat and snorted when a huge gasp of air rattled the man, his followers gasping in time and relief. "And which worm is that?" he asked mildly, almost academically as he glanced around the circle of astonished and disbelieving faces.

Thaddeus Horfund gargled something incomplete and slapped his hand on the grass to signify defeat, gasping and choking as Remus allowed his head to fall forward as he rolled off. Continuing the movement of a roll to his feet, Remus strutted around the circle of watchers, daring any of them to challenge. Most dropped their eyes and bowed immediately, one or two more slowly, but the three factions acknowledged him as the stronger, if not the bigger of the meeting.

Only Artimus Aguis caught and held his eye, a half-smile on his lips as the smaller man approached. His followers almost held their breaths as the two approached each other, circling warily and nostrils flaring to gather scent. "So, Moony, we meet again."

"Runner," Remus acknowledged in the same half amused tone. "It's been a while, how is the family?"

"They tried to take the kids away, but my sister stepped in and said they were hers. Lila allowed it as it was the only way they could be with us; my sister Susanna is their second mother anyway. This doesn't make us happy; it alienates those of us who were undecided and turns settled families into wild ones once again."

"As it was meant to," Remus acknowledged the man's argument with a regretful moue of distaste. "They were trying for another fish, but it wasn't theirs to fry."

"Your, er, ward?"

"Who is not and never was. It was a rumour that should never have started."

Aguis nodded and sighed deeply, turning to a jean-clad figure beside his left shoulder. "What do you think, Sly?"

"The little fast one is often right, more right than he is wrong, accept him," the woman said flatly, eyeing the younger man who faced her husband, his back turned confidently to the three alphas he had already conquered.

"My wise council," Runner half smiled then bowed his head abruptly. "Beta Prime – for now."

"Accepted - for now," Remus acknowledged him, the tension running down around the circle as the alphas called the shots.


	10. Werewolves at Play

**Chapter 9 **– _Werewolves at Play_

Moody stared around at the members of the DA – now junior Aurors in training – and scowled fiercely. He knew most of the little brats from teaching then DADA but that didn't stop him wondering what was in Minerva McGonagall's mind when she asked Hestia and him to begin their training as Aurors. Most of them would leave school and never pick up a wand to cast a curse again, or if they did it would be a last ditch effort to stave off something much more terrible than mere death. And that was why she had done it, he suddenly realised. These kids would be nothing but canon fodder if they had no skills; if they had some skills, they might just hold out until the cavalry arrived without dying. Bugger her and her indisputable arguments!

Eager faces turned to him, not so little now, most of them over seventeen and adults in their own right, even though they were just school kids. The trio was there, Ron looking fiercely determined, Harry equally determined, but with a matter-of-fact attitude that would indicate dedication without dramatics. Hermione, well, she was a strange one and, no mistake, fiercely loyal, determined and scared out of her knickers without backing down. She would make a terrifying opponent.

"Right, you lot! Shut your gobs and listen up!"

Hestia looked pained as the eager faces turned to her partner, but said nothing as Moody began the first indoctrination of the new group of Aurors in training.

oo0oo

"Well, that was a piece of rubbish," Ron grumbled as they entered through the portrait and slumped down onto convenient lounges. "All he did was lecture us on caution and taking care and learning the theory! It's just another study class!"

"Did you think it would be all derring-do?" Harry teased, summoning a drink for all three of them. "We have to master a few simple, non-magical skills before we can go on to the more difficult things like hexes and curses, you know?"

"Well, if nothing else we are going to get fit out of all this." Hermione sighed deeply and lifted her sticky hair away from her sweaty neck. "The next class we go to, the robes are staying in the trunk!"

Neville flopped down opposite them and groaned miserably until Harry took pity on him and summoned him a drink, too. "I told Gran it was a keep-fit class, but I never expected it to _really_ be a keep-fit class!"

"Fitness builds stamina and stamina allows for the more prolonged use of magic," Hermione reiterated their lesson for the day, then moaned as another pulled muscle made itself known. "You two aren't saying much," she raised her head to study Harry and Ron.

"That's because we are already fit and healthy from Quidditch," Ron said smugly and caught the back of Harry's hand in the middle of his chest with a whoof of protest. "Harry! What was that for?"

"Our fitness leaves a lot to be desired too, you know. We're good at broomstick manoeuvres, but when it came to those bends and twists, I nearly broke my spine!"

"'_Broomsticks are about balance, self-defence is about presenting the smallest target possible'_," Hermione quoted with relish and giggled when the boys glared at her.

"At least you didn't keep falling over when you had to walk a straight line with your eyes blindfolded." Neville covered his eyes gloomily in remembrance of his total failure to cope.

"Yeah, but you managed to touch your toes and curl up in a pretty tight ball," Hermione reminded him. "Have you guys ever heard of yoga? Yes, I guessed you would have, Harry, but have you two? It promotes a clear mind and a healthy, supple body. I'll get Mum to owl me some books on the subject, and we can all practice."

They all groaned miserably, but no one disputed her words.

oo0oo

"So this is where you hide away from the rest of the Gryffindorks." The silky smooth voice made her stiffen and turn abruptly to glare at the lounging figure propped up in the doorway.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snarled, not giving an inch, even when his presence sparked some rather unfortunate images that she could not get out of her brain.

"I don't want anything really, just passing by and thought I'd drop in," he drawled teasingly, pushing away from the doorpost with one shoulder and lounging forward to squat at her side. "What are you reading?"

She turned her nose up and ignored him as she tried to continue reading her book, but he was too close, and finally she slammed the cover closed to glare at him. "What do you want?" she demanded again, refusing to soften when he bit his lip and seemed to be sincerely thinking about what he was about to say.

"How is Uncle Severus?" he asked, almost shocking her speechless. "Look, I don't have any ulterior motives or nefarious schemes; I just need to know if my uncle is still alive. Hell, he is the best of my relatives, and he isn't even related by blood. My mother really believes he is dead – which pleases her a great deal - so the hunt for his body has been scaled back which should give him some measure of protection, if that is any consolation."

Hermione thought about it for a few moments. "He was alive yesterday morning, but whether he survived the night is still up for grabs. We don't get a lot of extra information now that Sirius is dead, but we do try to keep in touch with…." She broke off before she was indiscrete.

"Yes, I understand that. Look, if you do hear something, could you please tell me? Even if it's just a word to say he lives or has died?"

Hermione stared at the Slytherin, weighing and measuring his sincerity before she nodded slowly. "If I hear anything, I will let you know - if it is not compromising."

He smiled a genuine smile for once, and Hermione blinked in surprise as his cold grey eyes became silver and warm. "I will reciprocate. If my mother or aunt drops a hint, I will tell you. Deal?"

"Deal."

Hermione watched him saunter out of the library, as arrogant as ever, his blond hair glinting in the last dusty light. Less than six months ago she would have placed a sure thing bet on the fact that Draco Malfoy would be spending the rest of his life in Azkaban for his part in the murder of Professor Dumbledore. Harry had witnessed the murder and had chased both Malfoy and Snape across the Hogwarts grounds in an effort to detain them. Then serious money had changed hands, or that was how the world perceived it.

Malfoy had been cleared of all charges, and Snape had been 'seen to be under _Imperio'_ as 'demonstrated conclusively to the Minister and the Aurory'. Both had been allowed to return to their positions of student and teacher without penalty. The outcry had been horrendous. Malfoy had been treated like a pariah at first, especially by the other houses, but finally things had settled down. Over the holidays Harry had been shown Professor Dumbledore's final letter to the staff in which the Professor clearly stated that he had given Severus Snape permission to finish his life as he was very sick and willing to go, especially if his death served the Cause. And it _had_ served the Cause. Now Snape was one of the most trusted lieutenants in the Death Eaters, or had been until just yesterday.

The part Malfoy had played was a little less clear, his presence at the funeral a distinct shock to anyone who saw him, his mother at his side. As the tomb was closed, Narcissa Malfoy was seen to let out a great sigh, whether of relief or sadness was up for speculation, but Malfoy seemed to shiver at the final, heavy thud of marble on marble….

The word 'marble' in conjunction with her thoughts made a sliver of awareness trickle down Hermione's spine, but when she tried to catch and hold the thought it slipped away from her. Sighing to herself, she gathered her books and continued to research the problem in Arithmancy that was part of her final presentation for her NEWTs.

oo0oo

The back door slammed open and Shacklebolt came in, dragging Montegene with him, Sue Backrod and Mickey Ross helping each other in after. Remus Lupin dragged himself and Rhyanna Finnegan in last, the Auror as pale as milk and blood dripping from the rag she had pressed to her forehead. Hurrying across, Molly relieved Remus of his burden and helped the girl to a chair. Remus nodded his thanks and hurried out again, carefully taking care of the small signs that led to 12 Grimmauld Place, blood spots or scuff marks.

"What happened?" Molly asked as Kingsley began to cast a counter-curse over Louis Montegene who was twitching and giggling and trying to claw his skin off. As soon as the counter-curse went to work the man slumped, his hands stilling to drag through his hair.

"We got a tip off that there was to be a raid on the College of Potion Makers this evening to try and kill off as many of the students as they could," Kingsley said heavily, sitting back on his heels. "We warned the College Administration, told them where the Death Eaters would strike, but did they listen?" he raged angrily. "Of course not, we were just scaremongering and discriminating against the student body. The Dean even went as far as to seek Ministry permission to throw us out of the college grounds."

"How many are dead?" Arthur asked quietly, passing with a full cauldron of something pale blue and luminescent.

"I don't know, ten, fifteen, perhaps more. The _Mors Mordre_ was seen over the dormitories, and the battle was a running one down the Avenue of Heroes right up to where the Avenue joins back into the Muggle village again. We got four of the bastards though, Phillip Longre amongst them."

"Longre, but he is a Ministerial Ambassador from Belgrade, isn't he?" Roger asked, finishing wrapping up Sue Backrod's broken arm in poultices and measuring out her dose of Skele-Gro potion.

"Yes, that's exactly the problem, he is. Now he is going to claim _Imperio_ and get away with it, isn't he? After all, isn't that what Snape did?" Mickey Ross snarled bitterly, waving what looked like a gnarled crab claw in the general direction of north.

The Order members exchanged glances and nodded as one. After all, Severus was not generally known as an Order member, and they did try to keep his involvement with the Order under wraps. "Snape did test out positive," Kingsley murmured, shaking his head. "Three of us tested him most stringently, including just how human he really was. He was distressingly human to ten places, also completely cursed. The reading was impossible to fake; there was no vagueness about it, no perhaps or maybe, it was a definite _Imperio_ signature, and a very strong dose of it."

"It would have to be, wouldn't it? Severus Snape is iron-willed and as stubborn as a mule so anyone who tried to control him would need to use the maximum of power and be very close to him while holding the spell. Damn! I would have been very happy to see Snape in Azkaban, he's squeaked past it so many times!" Sue hissed through her teeth as her arm gave her a pinch.

The more senior members of the Order exchanged glances and held their tongues as the juniors speculated and complained while their wounds were tended to until Remus came back inside and shut the back door after him. Shaking his head, he grabbed a glass and poured himself a large pumpkin juice, swallowing the lot without taking a breath. As he lowered the glass he realised he was the cynosure of all eyes and blinked nervously. "It's all cleaned up and the smell is taken care of," he assured them quickly.

Mickey blinked and frowned at his words. "Why are we taking care of smells?"

"Because," Kingsley stated flatly, "our favourite opponent also has werewolves in his camp and a werewolf can smell out a trail as easily as a Crup."

"Bloody werewolves," Sue muttered, then flushed as the eyes turned to her instead. "What? I just meant they make things so much more complicated and … harder."

Remus caught Kingsley's eye and shook his head slightly as the black wizard made to chastise his underling. Shacklebolt's eyes narrowed but he held his peace as Remus carefully replaced the glass on the washing up pile and sketched Arthur a salute as he went to leave. "I'd best get back to the Wild Wolves now, we're planning a pre-Moon run to exercise some of the demons; so stay away from the heath for the next two nights. Some of the boys are a little twitchy, and it would only take one incident to send them over to the Dark in a heartbeat."

"We'll remember, Remus. Take care and Merlin's Blessings," Molly said, dropping a kiss on his cheek as he ghosted out the back door. "I worry about that boy," she mustered to herself as she hurried past the knot of injured, intent on treating the more badly hurt.

"Oh, Merlin, I put my foot right in that, didn't I?" Sue sighed miserably. "It's just hard to remember that they aren't all that bad, really."

"Yes, prejudice fuelled by the Ministry's propaganda is not easy to counteract, but we must fight it," Arthur reminded them all harshly as he went back to his brewing.

oo0oo

The makeshift infirmary was full with all the extra injuries, and Molly left her duties as chief cook and bottle washer until she could settle the next wave of casualties. If it kept up, pretty soon there would be no time to cook or clean, only time to patch up wounds and clean away curse signatures from injured bodies.

The parade was becoming never ending as more and more people came in to be treated for major or minor wounds. Death Eater activity had increased ten-fold, the Dark Lord rampaging through the countryside, setting property and people on fire for no better reason than because he could. For every raid their intelligence foiled, he seemed to be staging four more in retaliation. As much as no one wanted to admit it, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was winning the body count.

oo0oo

Remus apparated back into the camp ground, just in time to witness two of the younger men going for their wands. Without thought he yelled '_Expelliarmus'_ and caught both wands in one hand as he glared at them furiously.

"There are Muggles everywhere around here, and you two are about to start throwing hexes at each other? I think not! If you want to beat each other's heads in, go for it, but if I catch any of you throwing spells around, I will personally transfigure your heads into pigs' behinds, got it!"

One young man opened his mouth and Remus simply flicked his wand, the youth letting out a yelp that turned into a very convincing pig's squeal as his head changed shape and colour. The rest of his pack burst out laughing as he began to run around in circles flapping his arms and clawing at his fat pink cheeks. The tail in the middle of where his forehead used to be whisked and curled frantically while the speculation on what he was breathing through was rife.

The tension ran out of the massed packs on the wings of laughter as Remus took careful aim and transfigured him back again just before he tripped over a bedroll and sprawled out on the grass in a tangle of arms and legs.

"You're very good," Paddy muttered coming up behind the short man he had rescued two days before to laugh at the comedy the group made of extracting their member from the sleeping bags. "I thought the whole place was going to blow up, but you've defused the situation with barely a lifted finger."

Shrugging, Remus grinned at the man. "It's no different to trying to keep order in a classroom full of sixteen-year-old Gryffindors and Slytherins. Here, you can give these back to their respective owners now, if you like," he commented, tossing over the wands.

As dusk approached, there was a quick fusillade of pops as a dozen women and girls apparated into the area and were greeted by a pack of boys with loud cheering and noisy kisses. "Here's trouble," Lila Aguis muttered as she and Artimus slid in beside Patrick and Remus. "It's the 'bad girls' looking for a bit of fun and frolic."

Artimus grinned over her head at the two men who were a little lost at that point. "We all know about the wild boys or wild wolves but not much is said about the bad girls, their female counterparts…"

"Usually because we have more sense than to go roaming around looking for trouble," Lila snapped, then giggled. "We usually let you lot take all the credit," she commented, making a long arm and dragging her partner into a clinch.

Paddy and Remus shook their heads with fond smiles as the mixed group of men and women sorted themselves out into two teams of about thirty a side and began a form of football that combined soccer, rugby union and rugby league with all-in wrestling. The howling, giggling mass of arms and legs tumbled roughly across the heath until all combatants were thoroughly dirty and exhausted. Before tempers could be broken, a meal was hastily assembled, and Remus leaned over to Paddy to mutter in his ear.

"You wouldn't happen to have a radio or a boom-box, would you?"

"It can be arranged." He grinned as he apparated, returning ten minutes later with a large silver boom-box. "Modified it myself to run continuously on magic for as long as I like. What do you want to hear?"

"Ooh, music!" a lanky blonde collapsing near Artimus' feet exclaimed excitedly and began twiddling dials before Paddy could even respond. The Wizarding Radio station blared out a static-riddled rendition of a current Weird Sisters hit, which made quite a few heads turn and the groans were equally balanced by the cheers. Paddy chuffed indignantly and snatched his toy back, spinning the dials and waving the aerial until Top of the Pops roared out the top ten at full volume. "Muggle music! Cool!"

The party was in full swing, the crowd singing and dancing, beer flowed freely from brown ale bottles that appeared at regular intervals. Violence had been confined to a couple of scuffles which the alphas had squashed before they got out of hand, and the presence of the ladies seemed to keep the boys on their best behaviour. Remus was dancing energetically with Linda Holsworthy when one of the younger men dashed into camp, buttoning his trousers, his girl of the moment hard on his heels.

"Beta Prime, there are Death Eaters on the heath, and they've got a couple of kids bailed up. One of the blokes is hurt; the other is holding his own at the moment."

Remus stiffened. "Bloody Death Eaters, they're always ruining a good party. Right, we had better go sort them out before the Aurors turn up and manage to blame _us_ for _their_ handiwork."

"Maybe we should just leave," a voice in the crowd said flatly.

"And let them think they have driven us away? I think not! I'm a wolf, not a pussy!" Remus managed to sound indignant and cheeky at the same time. "Besides, it might be fun if we toss our voices around, make them a little bit crazy when they can hear us but not see us. How many of you are good at Creeping Flesh charms? What about Pallid Mist hex? How about we make the idiots think they are being haunted by something, sort of drive them nuts?"

"What about Ghostly Fingers?"

"What about Death Breath?"

"Now you are getting with the programme, let's make Halloween come just a little early!"

Drunken giggles and loud hushing echoed over the group as they scattered and flowed over the heath to surround their rather unsuspecting quarry. Remus let out a thankful breath and glanced at Paddy, who was giving him a fond smile. "What?"

"You did that really well, turning them from murderous to playful," Paddy commented as they began to run after the pack. "But tell me, what if these Death Eaters turn nasty and start flinging real hexes at the boys and girls?"

Remus considered his words as he surveyed the vicinity for eavesdroppers. "Then it will suit my plan, too. I want you to get the people who are being harassed out of here as safely as possible. Choose a couple of guys to help you. Our lot are going to play a practical joke as far as they are concerned. If the Death Eaters do turn rabid, then our guys are going to retaliate with force and the Death Eaters don't stand a chance against what, sixty odd werewolves. I'd rather there were no civilian casualties."

"Got you, Beta, have fun," Paddy chuckled and sloped off into the night.

Even drunken werewolves were hard to hear as the massed pack flowed over the slightly rolling ground, surrounding the ten black-cloaked Death Eaters while they were intent on their victims. One man was on the ground, blood dripping and pooling about his head and chest, the other had been severely jinxed and was flailing around blindly, his skin a mass of suppurating sores. One of the girls had a wand out and was doing her best to defy the taunting, jeering circle while they sent flicks of wind to blow her full skirt up around her head from different angles, while commenting crudely on what was revealed. The other girl merely wept noisily into her hand, the wailing and sobbing hiding the fact she was carefully working her wand out of its pocket.

The first Creeping Flesh charm took the most active Death Eater around the back of the neck, making him jump and squeak in a very unscary manner. Someone else sent Ghostly Fingers creeping under another black robe. Remus threw back his head and howled very softly, as if from a great distance away. Others caught the ploy and he was answered from miles away to the left and to the right. Three of the Death Eaters took the sudden deathly chills to heart and apparated immediately, but the other seven formed a defensive circle, wands facing out as they were touched and tormented by invisible hands and ghostly howls.

A flash of light from the far right illuminated a couple of figures and the Death Eaters suddenly had substantial targets to aim at, all seven of them moving in an orderly fashion without breaking their circle, their first quarry forgotten. The girl who had been drawing her wand was almost scared into doing something silly as five men and a woman rose from almost under her nose.

"Hush now and let's get you out of here," the black-haired leader of the party said in a whisper. "Cynthia, take that lass there, and you two take the bleeder. You two take the puss-head, and you take the other lass there. We'll go to the blasted oak; it should be fairly safe there. On three?"

They apparated.

oo0oo

Lupin waved another party to make their selves visible, leading the Death Eaters further and further away from their original victims and deeper into the heath. The game of hide and seek could have gone on forever, but the majority of the Death Eaters finally gave up and apparated out until only two were left. Finally, the charm of the game wore off for the werewolves, too, and the majority wandered off, many apparating out, a few simply continuing the game of tag amongst themselves as pairs dropped away to continue a private game of their own.

Remus chuckled silently to himself as he surveyed the scene and decided it was safe for him to leave the last remnants unsupervised. Turning his back, he apparated and reappeared at the blasted oak tree he had designated the rendezvous point. Paddy had begun the reversal of hexes on the worst wounded, and one of the women was helping the two girls get over the trauma by pointing out that it could have been a whole lot worse.

"Hi, Beta, you want to have a look at this bloke? I have never seen pustules like these before. Any ideas?"

Leaning forward, Remus cast lumos at a low intensity and shone it on the young man's face. "Some form of impetigo combined with acne boils, perhaps. Looks like a St Mungo's job to me. Does it hurt? Perhaps a temporary analgesic charm to relieve the pain wouldn't…." He broke off as a drawling voice cut through the night, making him spin on the spot.

"Well, well, well, a whole nest of vermin with their victims all neatly placed," the man in the white mask began to drawl, then ducked hastily as Remus threw a hex without warning.

"Go!" he yelled as he cast _Protego_ and ducked hastily behind the tree. The others didn't wait around, each apparating out in a hurry, Paddy the last to go and only because he had the worst victim to deal with.

Duelling madly, Remus led the Death Eater away from the oak, keeping him well and truly occupied so that the others could escape. The man was good, fast reactions and a wide range of hexes, some of which Remus had never even seen cast. Still, having studied defence for so long, Remus was versed in energy conservation and his hexes were a lot more effective, his shielding taking the brunt of his opponent's fury and turning it aside. Muffed shots and curses made the landscape writhe and flow, wild and improbable plants springing up and dying in their wake. Animals and _things_ being created and destroyed as the small creatures of the heath were taken by stray hexes and changed.

A passing moth suddenly became a vicious-toothed carnivorous something that flew at Remus' head, making him duck and whirl for a second. The movement threw off his opponent long enough to score two direct hits on the Death Eater that should have knocked him out but were blunted by the spell repellents built into the robes. Still, Remus was grinding the Death Eater down, the man's breath screaming in his chest, his spells growing more ragged and less effective when a bared tree root betrayed Lupin. He stumbled and fell flat on his back, but rolled and was coming to his feet when a last desperate banishing charm caught him in the side of the head and he knew no more.


	11. The Ball is in Motion

**Chapter 10** – _The Ball is in Motion_

"Severus, can you hear me? Come on now, Severus; lie down, my dear. Rest, relax, come on now. Please, Severus, come along." Molly coaxed the stiff, upright figure, gently drawing him down onto the cot where he was supposed to be recovering.

His body was healing, the broken bones slowly mending despite his inability to stay lying down and quiet. Once Severus had passed the point of almost expiring once an hour, he had begun to move restlessly to the beat of his own thoughts. As strength, if not sense, returned to the skinny wiry carcass, he had insisted on springing upright and standing rigidly in a corner whenever the fits took him. They had tried a total body bind but he had fought it so hard, he had broken the spell, and even re-broken his forearm and shin. They had tried everything they could think of to bring him out of the occlumentic trance he had become caught in, to no avail. Even the St Mungo's expert Roger had persuaded to come into head quarters had been unable to penetrate the shielding Severus had thrown around his mind. All Molly could do was to gently coax Severus back to the bed when the fits of standing to attention came on him.

He didn't respond to any outside stimulus either, even when some bright spark put a lampshade on his head. Food and potions had to be administered one spoonful at a time and even then, the food had to be liquid as he did not chew or swallow voluntarily. Twice more, Roger had broached the subject of sending him to the Special Ward at St Mungo's but Molly rejected the suggestion out of hand. Spells took care of his physical needs and apart from having to be hand-fed, Severus was no trouble at all, she averred stoutly in the face of all opposition. Just leave him alone! She was worse than a mother hen with one chick.

Even Arthur could not approach her with any rationality on the subject, choosing instead to let her be. He knew his wife very well and knew that, once she embraced a cause, nothing short of a fatal hex would make her let go of it. And even that solution was not guaranteed to work.

oo0oo

"I think I'll grow a moustache," Ron said out of the blue, wasting breath he didn't have to spare as they jogged around the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the DA in an effort to get fit.

Harry huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes sideways at his running partner, studying his top lip. "You haven't enough hair to make a decent shave, never mind a moustache," Harry reminded him with a breathless laugh.

"Still, it's a thought." Ron never let an idea go easily.

Harry just shook his head and continued to take three steps to every two of Ron's long strides.

Ginny and Hermione followed their lead, running in tandem and with synchronised step as they were of a height and a size. "Tell me again why we are doing this?" Ginny asked rhetorically.

"Because Professor Moody said that fitness increases stamina and allows for the longer and more vigorous use of magic in a battle," Hermione reiterated in time to her pounding footsteps.

"Do you think the 'mad' part of his name could also be applicable to the mood he creates in his students? Cus I think we're all crazy to be doing this."

Giggling, Hermione continued to run smoothly and as silently as she could while Ginny continued to catalogue all the ways mad could be applied to Mad Eye Moody.

The rest of the DA was strung out around the Quidditch pitch, following their leader in an uneven string of sweating, panting agony. The Quidditch team members were not so badly off but some of the less active members were truly feeling the pace. Neville, usually one of the more sedentary members of the group, was feeling both the heat and the effort, sweat rolling off him in rivers. Still, the dogged determination on his face was somewhat frightening in its intensity as he struggled onward. Since the terrible night in the Department of Mysteries he had worked like a Trojan to overcome his usual clumsiness and was succeeding admirably.

At his side, crowned with a mixed wreath of dandelions and daisies, Luna trotted along, seemingly unaffected by the heat or the exercise. Since the battle at the Department of Mysteries she had attached herself to Neville, the two becoming an unspoken if odd couple who seemed to make more with each other than they did individually. Luna didn't laugh at Neville's clumsiness and Neville took Luna's eccentricities in his stride. By the time they arrived at the gathering point, the others had began their stretches and bends, going through the yoga routine Hermione had devised as part of their cooling down period.

"I think we have attracted some attention," Luna observed, stretching out a long, pale leg and pointing her toes rather elegantly.

"Huh?" Neville asked, struggling to bend sideways, not as easy for him as it sounded.

"Slytherins off the port bow," Justin Finch-Fletchly muttered loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the DA.

"Just ignore them unless they start throwing jinks about," Hermione said firmly, catching and holding her two friends' eyes with grim determination.

"And then blast them!" Ron added viciously, as a few of the scars the brain tentacles had left stood out whitely on his flushed skin.

"I wonder what they get from watching us like that," Harry muttered, a frown knitting his brow.

"To ogle all our superbly fit bodies and graceful movements, I should think," Michael Corner affected a snooty, snobbish tone, making everyone laugh.

In the stands, Pansy Parkinson hissed viciously, her hands knotted into fists. "Oh, how I would love to claw that Granger bitch's eyes out! How dare she flaunt herself like that!"

"Looked pretty good to me, her and the She Weasel," Gary Pruit murmured back, causing the others to snigger, Goyle a few seconds behind the rest as usual.

"My question is why are they doing it?" Crabbe finally asked after a great deal of thought.

Everyone paused and turned to stare at the usually silent boy who looked back impassively. Draco leaned back against the hard bench and put his feet on the rail with a sigh. "Because, our dear Mr Potter has finally grasped the concept that you have to be fit to throw decent hexes around for any length of time or else you run out of the wherewithal to continue a battle, of course," he drawled eyeing his companions with a self-satisfied smirk. "Surely everyone knew that?"

"I didn't know that," Millicent ventured when no one else seemed to have anything to say.

"Humm, well, that is to be expected, I suppose," Draco drawled. "My father always insisted I take some physical exercise and not just the obvious sweating such as that lot of … of Gryffindorks are indulging in."

"You exercise?" Pansy said incredulously, then moderated her tone as Draco swung his gaze lazily in her direction, always a bad sign.

"Obviously, that lot have never heard of isometrics, nor, apparently, have you," Draco replied cryptically and rose in a swirl of robes to leap down from the stands and stride away back to school, his entourage scrambling to keep up.

oo0oo

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall observed the drama playing out near the Quidditch pitch then turned away with a sigh. Gryffindor and Slytherin, always true to their founder's ideals and always at each other's throats. She wondered how scandalised the school board would be if she tossed the rotten Sorting Hat out the window into the lake and simply abandoned the Houses totally? If Dumbledore couldn't do it then it was not likely that she could. Still, the thought was a comfort when she had to sort out yet another inter-house scuffle, and it would be nice if the inter-house scuffles were the biggest fights on the horizon, but they were not!

"You know, old man, I was rather counting on you to live forever," she said over her shoulder to the portrait hanging closest to her desk but there was no response. The rest of the portraits were almost embarrassed to look at the very fine painting of Dumbledore that sat in a handsome gold frame in pride of place. The old headmaster stared out over the office that had been his home and dominion for so many years, bright blue eyes wide and staring, not a twitch of movement to be seen. The painting could well have been a Muggle effort for all the life it contained. In fact, Minerva and Filius Flitwick had subjected it to some pretty rigorous testing just in case someone had kidnapped the Headmaster's portrait but no, it was the real thing, just dead and inanimate. "And a fat lot of good to me, too," she added in a mutinous mutter. "Where are you, old man?"

For a second she thought she saw a glimmer in the portrait's eye then realised the fire was calling her. Shacklebolt's head floated in the flames, flickering eerily. "Headmistress, we have a problem; Remus Lupin is either hurt or dead somewhere on Hampstead Heath, but no one is sure where."

"Oh no, not Remus!" Minerva covered her mouth to hold in her horror and turned to stare at the set of small coloured balls floating on silver wires in an elaborate sculpture. Each ball represented a member of the Order and Remus' ball was floating rather low on its spiral and had a red-brown tinge to it. "No, he's not dead, but he is hurt. Could you or Tonks cast a tracker charm and see if you can find him?"

"We tried that but we get the trace of at least sixty or more werewolves. So that marker didn't help at all!" Shacklebolt stated then his eyebrow rose as McGonagall snorted in disgust.

"For goodness sake, he was running with a pack of wild wolves trying to stave off disaster, no wonder you get so many! Try tracking cinnamon, chocolate and wolf in combination. That should get you a lot closer, the man is a chocoholic and always has at least half a bar on him somewhere."

"Really? Okay, we'll give it a try and call you back," Kingsley said and pulled his head away.

"So that's just one _more_ thing to worry about!" Minerva muttered disgruntled as she returned to her desk and the mountain of paperwork that never got any smaller.

oo0oo

Patrick and Judy O'Leary apparated into the area near the blasted oak, their wands at the ready. Dawn was just breaking and a few birds were just waking up to herald its arrival. The grass all around the area was flattened, the ground churned and broken by the scrabble of many feet. Patches of grass had been wiped clean or burned to a crisp, the insect life all but decimated in the aftermath of what had had to have been a hard-fought battle. Something rustled in the grass and both wands homed in on the noise until a very odd creature came into view, the front end of a hedgehog, the back end of a frog.

"Whoops! Now that would be a talking point and no mistake," Judy commented as her husband quickly transfigured the poor animal back into a hedgehog. "I think you went the wrong way, hedgehogs don't try to hop."

"Oh. Sorry. There you are, is that more like it?" Paddy reversed the spell quickly and the frog took off with an indignant croak. "Okay, should I just _Accio Remus_, or what?"

"No silly, if he is hurt that sort of treatment would be the death of him. Try a Point Me spell. Ah, there you go, that way," Judy exclaimed in satisfaction as the wand spun her husband around and began to pull him steadily northward. They had travelled less than fifty feet when the double pop of apparition made them both spin defensively and drop to the ground in some long grass.

The two newcomers wore red, a deadly colour, not quite as bad as Death Eaters but almost, in some circles. The taller of the two cradled some sort of device in his hand while the smaller one tried to peer over his arm to see it, too.

"It's not exactly accurate, is it?" the shorter, female one said in disgust. "I mean, look at it, it's wiggling back and forward as if it couldn't make up its mind. What does that mean, I ask you?"

"By the look of the place, I'd say it means he was all over the area and that sort of oscillation usually means two halves of the whole," the taller said heavily.

"Oh Merlin, no! Poor Remus, or… maybe he splinched and got himself spread about a bit?"

"And maybe the Death Eaters tore him to pieces. Damn the fool for taking on the Oldsby group on his own, by the look of it. We know for a fact that Denby and Jugson were in that party and you know how badly they wanted Remus' hide after the Department of Mysteries fiasco."

"Yes and just how did they escape when Malfoy and Macnair were taken cleanly?"

"Arrant stupidity on the part of the man in charge, who is now scouring out drains somewhere nasty, one fervently hopes. Come on, this isn't getting it done. We'll try the nearest one first. It's that way about twenty metres."

Before the O'Learys could move, the two Aurors strode forward and nearly stood on Paddy's hands as they all but fell over the couple in the grass. Wands quickly realigned until the two parties were at a Mexican stand-off. Judy glanced from the Aurors to her husband and carefully moved in between him and the humans. "What do you want?" she asked gruffly as the female Auror's hair changed colour like a kaleidoscope.

"We're tracking chocolate, cinnamon and wolf but you aren't the right one," the girl said in surprise, then grinned. "You don't happen to have an acquaintance with Remus Lupin, chocoholic and superwolf, do you?"

"Superwolf? Why do you call the Beta that?" Paddy asked curiously then slapped his hand over his mouth.

"Some secret agent you'd make," his wife huffed, then glared at the Aurors. "He hasn't done anything wrong, none of them have."

"No, of course not," Shacklebolt said hurriedly, lowering his wand a discrete amount. "We know he was out this way and that he was hurt, so we came to find him."

"I told you he was hurt!" Paddy said in aggrieved tones to his wife. "I caught a whiff of him over that way but then you came in and … whatever you were doing?"

"Tracking Remus' characteristics," Tonks said easily as she introduced herself to the couple. "Come on, let's not waste any more time, this way."

The four moved north again, intent on the tracking device until Tonks walked over a cliff and went tumbling down top over turkey until she crashed in an ungainly heap at the bottom of the slope. Judy let out a small scream and Paddy had jumped halfway down the cliff in an effort to catch her before her breathless little, 'I found him' drifted up to them.

"Tonks, get off my hand," Remus complained querulously as the other three came into sight.

"Oh, sorry mate, just fell down a bit, took the skin off my arse, I'll tell you."

"Yeah, well, it could have been worse. I broke my leg and it would have been worse if I hadn't landed fair in this nice soft marshy bit, nice soft _cold_ marshy bit," he reiterated, with a distinct shiver.

"Merlin, Remus, you're blue! Come on; let's get you out of there." Both Paddy and Shacklebolt plodged in to pull him from the bog, Judy carefully casting a stiffening spell over his leg which bent in the middle of the shin most disconcertingly.

Tonks climbed to her feet and cast a drying and warming spell over her friend as the two men holding him decided what to do for the best. Judy listened to them then huffed in disgust. "Listen boys; don't forget he is a werewolf and St Mungo's will not let him through the front door, never mind into the treatment rooms. You know it's getting worse, Paddy, the prejudice I mean, especially after the last lot of laws and edicts the Ministry forced through the Wizengamot. If a werewolf needs medical treatment they either have to sneak into a Muggle practice or go to a hedge witch."

"Gods above, is it really that bad?" Tonks asked in wide-eyed horror.

"And it's getting worse all the time," Paddy confirmed grimly.

"We will have to take him to headquarters," Kingsley said decisively. "I'm sorry people, but it's just Tonks and I can go there…"

"…And Remus Lupin was never heard from again?" Judy snapped furiously, fear fuelling her anger.

"Judy, no," Remus said softly, staying the hand that was going for her wand. "I know where they are going to take me and it is safe for me, I do assure you; safer than anywhere else in the country at the moment. I will call you as soon as I am patched up, I promise you," he assured the woman with a smile that was more like a grimace as his teeth chattered relentlessly.

"If I don't hear from you in two days I am going to go to Auror headquarters and raise such a stink the Ministry will need to be fumigated before anyone can work there again. Understood Aurors?" Judy said ominously. "Remember, Remus, two days, before Moon if you please."

"I'll fire call you," he promised as Shacklebolt apparated, taking him away, too.

"He will be fine, I promise," Tonks said softly before she followed her partner away.


	12. Full Grown Baby

Hi, just a quick word. Fmh asked that a line or a break be put into the stories to separate passages. I actually use a couple of tildes and an asterisk to separate my passages but for some reason they had all disappeared. Sincere apologies there, I went back and fixed it and will keep an eye on the problem in the future. Hope you like the new passage breaks.

Regards

Les

**Chapter 11** – _Full Grown Baby_

Remus groaned as the Skele-Gro plaster wrapped around his leg made it ache fiercely. Shacklebolt and Tonks had apparated him into the backyard of Grimmauld Place, then hurried him into Molly's care as soon as they managed to manoeuvre him through the back door. Dosed with Skele-Gro potion and bandaged to within an inch of his life, he had little left to do but contemplate the ceiling and wait until Molly or Roger pronounced his leg was healed enough to walk on. He was furious that the Death Eater he had been duelling with had managed to get away pretty much unscathed. On the other hand, he was quite glad that the Death Eater had chosen to leave the moors with their duel unfinished rather than come looking for him. After all, he had been unconscious for quite a few minutes, long enough for half a dozen Unforgivable Curses to have blasted him into the hereafter!

He contemplated Paddy and Judy O'Leary and their parts in his rescue. He was surprised and pleased that they had come after him, even on such a short acquaintance. The older couple were good, honest people who had an interest in seeing that justice was done, despite the darkness of the times. If they were lucky, the Order had just gained two new recruits – a little raw yet – but every little bit helped.

Trying to distract himself, he rolled his eyes left and suddenly realised the coat rack in the corner was actually a human being. His eyes widened dramatically when he saw who was standing there.

"Severus? Severus Snape?" he called, trying for cheerful and merely achieving a gasp. There was no response to his call so he hitched himself higher on the pillows curiously.

"Oh Remus, it's so sad. He's lost," Molly tossed over her shoulder in passing, a bundle of towels in her arms which she deposited in the nearest cupboard.

"Lost? But he is right there…, what do you mean by lost?"

"He has a brain injury," Molly said flatly as she straightened and shut the cupboard door with a snap.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Remus flopped back on his cot in shock, stunned by the unfairness of it all. Severus had always been the brightest star in their year, brighter even than Sirius and himself, not that either of them would admit such a thing. "What happened? Or do we not know?"

"That… that monster and his curses is what happened. Poor Severus was minced, inside and out, more broken bones than I thought the human body actually had." Molly shivered and went to Severus' side, laying a hand on his arm to guide him over to the cot near Remus. Encouraging and scolding, she made the stiff man fold in the middle, seating him on the edge of the cot. "I wish I knew what was going around in his head."

oo0oo

"_**Useless, disobedient waste of space! You are old enough to know the meaning of an order. If you disobey an order, you will be punished. Have I ever lied to you, Boy? Don't you dare make a noise! Did you think I was lying when I said I would punish you? No noise, you wretched piece of detritus! I said do not take a step out of line but you did, so now you must face the consequences of your flagrant disobedience!"**_

_The transfigured wand was a thin whippy riding crop that whistled as it cut through the air and laid a burning line of fire across his back. The next blow cut his buttocks, the third his shoulders. He tried not to, tried very hard not to make a sound, but it hurt, it hurt so much!_

_As the tiny whimper left his mouth the old woman who was his grandmother smiled vindictively and brought the crop down smartly across the back of his legs in a roundhouse slash. "__**Every little sound will bring its own reward, you know that, you useless piece of effluvium!**__" she said almost conversationally as she cut at his back once again._

_He managed to stifle even the tiniest wisp of sound, and his grandmother settled back against her throne like chair with a huff of disappointment. "__**Continue**__," she instructed sharply._

oo0oo

Molly felt the man flinch under her hand and blinked uneasily as a quickly gone twist of agony cut across the blank canvas of his face. It was so unexpected she almost instinctively checked her grip to see if she had grabbed too hard on his barely healed arm.

"I really don't think you do want to know what is going on in his head, actually," Remus said softly as another miniscule flinch made the cot frame squeak just a little. "From the little I know of the Snape Family, it's a wonder he grew up at all; and only as twisted as he usually is, instead of fully dysfunctional, or so Dark that black would be light relief in comparison. His grandmother used a mixture of abuse and potions to try and turn him into a vampire. I think she had a theory about how a vampire could be created and was intent on proving it."

"Yes, I remember overhearing my grandmother talking about Veraline van Harbekk before she married Thaddeus' father and how there were rumours that her mother was highly placed in the vampire serving community. They say that the only reason she married Snape was to get access to the European entail, or at least breed a son who could access it. Of course, Thaddeus couldn't, nor could Severus. I don't know how true the rumour was but Veraline was not one to take disappointment in her stride, and she had a reputation of being both intelligent and sadistic."

Sometimes Remus forgot just how closely the pureblood wizarding families were actually related, and it always came as a shock to find out just who was related to whom. "So does that make Severus one of your relatives, your cousin or something?"

Molly cocked her head consideringly. "With quite a number of removes, but yes, he would be a cousin of sorts. Now, let's have a look underneath this plaster, you should be almost as good as new by now." Deftly unwinding the bandages, Molly scrutinised the hairy shin before her and poked it a couple of times with her wand, making Remus squirm and chuckle. "Oh, come on, you can't be ticklish on the shins, surely?" she reproved humorously.

"I can't? Oh, oh well, must just be me then." Remus laughed back, clutching his shin to protect it from Molly's wand tip. "So, what's the verdict?"

"You are almost as good as new again, and you will be as good as new in a couple of hours. Now, we just have to work on those sniffles, don't we?" she added as Remus sneezed into a large handkerchief. "That really does not sound good, Remus, very deeply seated in your chest."

"Don't worry about it; the rattles and sneezes will be gone in no time. I'm a werewolf; I don't usually get colds for more than a couple of hours, then they go away. So, is there anything I can do to make myself useful while the rest of the potion does its work?"

Molly eyed him consideringly. "Well, there is one thing that needs doing, but I really do hesitate to ask it of you." She folded the towel she was holding into a small package then shook it out and began to fold it again. "Oh dear, now I don't want to offend or embarrass you, but there are not many who are used to, er, handling a man's, er, body , er, intimately." She flushed, gulped and swallowed before going at it in a rush. "Would you consider giving Severus a real bath? There is only so much cleaning spells can do, and he needs a good application of soap and water, and I daren't ask any of the others to do it. They may not be kind or gentle or only do half a job, you know…." Her ears were as red as her hair, which Remus had to admit to himself was fascinating. He managed not to smile as she ploughed on with her request despite her obvious discomfort. "Roger wants to put him in St Mungo's special ward and forget about him, and I can't really say if Arthur agrees with me or him, which is a sad thing for a wife to have to say about her husband. I know you will be kind and gentle, and you are strong enough to manage if he objects at all, which I'm sure he won't. Well, not that he is capable of objecting to anything just now, but he does go rigid and is hard to move about, which is as good as objecting, isn't it?" Her whole face was almost as red as her hair by the time she had finished rambling and subsided into an uncomfortable silence.

Remus managed to keep a suitably grave face as he nodded and replied in matter-of-fact tones. "I can do that for you. Just give me a minute to make a call, then I'll give him a good scrub down. Has he any clean clothes? Those ones he's wearing are going to need a proper wash, too. I can smell them from here."

"Clothes? Oh yes, yes, of course, I'll call Minerva and she can owl some straight down."

"I'll loan him a dressing gown until they arrive," Remus assured her before turning to Snape. "Come on, stand up now, we are going to use the bathroom," he said gently as he eased a hand under the man's armpit and lifted him.

For a second Snape did not move, then slowly as if having to manually work every muscle, Severus rose to his full height. Remus was small for an adult wizard, a childhood spent reforming himself twice a month had stunted his growth quite substantially. Severus was very tall, most likely around the six feet and six inches mark. It was almost as bad as standing next to Hagrid except that Severus was as thin as a twig and looked like a good breeze would snap him. The perception was deceptive. When Remus tried to push or pull, Snape went rigid and was all but immovable, just as Molly had warned him. If Remus exerted his werewolf-enhanced strength, he feared the barely healed bones would break. Finally, he discovered that a firm but gentle pressure, applied slowly and surely, would ease Severus in the direction he wanted him to go.

Getting Severus out of his robes was a task all on its own; there were buttons everywhere! Buttons on the neck, buttons on the front right down to his knees, buttons on the cuffs right up to his elbows, and the robes clanked! When the first couple of inches of buttons came undone and a fold of robe slid down, there was a distinct rattle of glass. Patting the man down, Remus began to find pockets and hidden folds everywhere, and every single pocket and hidey hole was full of _stuff_! There were pills, there were potions, there were little tiny vials and boxes, and even a half-litre flask tucked into a pocket near his waist. Another pocket held a couple of quills and a travel bottle of ink as well as parchment and sand.

"My Gods, Man, there is so much stuff in here it's a wonder you can move, never mind walk! And what is this then? Humm, you do have good taste, Severus, best Ogden's twelve- year-old Firewhiskey. Pepper-up Potion? And Pecker-up Potion? Well, well, well, you are just full of surprises. Contraception potions? Now that is just wishful thinking, my man!" Remus lined the bottles and jars up on the sideboard, then finished the job of stripping Snape down to his underwear. Casting a quick warming charm on the room, Remus left his charge and bent to run warm water into the bathtub, adding cleaning potion to make some foam.

An odd little noise caught his ear, and he turned just in time to slump wearily onto the side of the bathtub. "Oh damn, Molly did warn me it was like taking care of a baby, but I had to forget the basic rules. No, no, no! Oh no, Severus, please don't do that! Don't cry, it's not the end of the world! I can clean it up, it's okay." Waving his wand hurriedly, Remus removed the growing puddle and quickly made sure the man was safely perched on the commode before turning off the taps. Molly had warned him that Severus was no longer capable of looking after himself, but he had not realised just how incapacitated the proud man was. If he ever remembered any of this if he regained – _when_ he regained – his mind, he would hex Remus into Outer Mongolia or worse!

The silent sobs were the worst, all the more heartbreaking for the lack of expression that went with them. There was no noise, no expression of sadness, just wave upon wave of tears rolling freely down the long, sallow face and dripping off the end of his chin, unchecked and unheeded. Remus knew when he cried he just let rip, but this rigid control was almost scary. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus wrapped his arms around the skinny frame and petted his hair, stroking his back and making soothing noises until the man seemed to relax some of his rigidity, even going so far as to lean into Remus' shoulder slightly to find comfort. After-tears shudders wracked him, but again there was no noise as Remus finished undressing him and eased him into the hot soapy water.

The water relaxed him, and Remus got his first good look at the damage the Potions Master had suffered, a silent whistle breaking out. There were bruises in many shades of blue and yellow, angry red new scars, and half-healed scabs all over him. Even worse, Severus himself was as thin as a rail, not an ounce of fat on him and not much muscle either; it was all bone and sinew, strung tightly over long, protruding bones. His shoulders were square and wide, compared to the rest of his frame, a few arm muscles built over years of heaving cauldrons and stirring them in precise increments. His legs were long, skinny, and pale as milk, but his feet were elegantly arched, his toes smooth and long. His hip bones jutted out from a sunken belly like dead reefs on a wasted beach.

Where there were no bruises or scars, Severus' skin was pale cream and hairless, the few hairs on his limbs were very dark, a scattering between his nipples barely enough to accent his chest. Even his pubic hair was dark and sparse, and Remus did his best not to ogle his equipment though it was of exceptionally good quality, uncut and abundant despite being completely flaccid. In some ways that lack of interest was a bit of a bummer, but under the circumstances it was probably for the best.

Having washed every inch of skin most carefully and rinsed off the grime and smell, Remus hauled Severus out and dried him carefully, scrupulously drying in the creases before slipping the enlarged dressing gown over his arms and belting it around his waist. Sniffing delicately, Remus decided the other man was clean enough to meet Molly's exacting standards and carefully guided him out of the bathroom. Even as he helped Severus toward the ballroom and his cot, a tremendous sneeze caught Remus and almost blew his head inside out from the force, which set off a fit of coughing that left him breathless and sore.

Surprised, Remus blew his nose and helped Severus into bed, rolling him onto his side and tucking him in. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Remus bent forward and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss on his brow. "Good night, Severus, sleep well," he murmured, a shiver coursing down his spine. Perhaps a cup of tea would warm him up properly. He headed for the kitchen.

oo0oo

"He can't stay here, he's in the way and he's freaking the casualties out! Molly, it's like having a statue of a vampire coming to life and springing to attention. He needs to go to St Mungo's or back to Hogwarts, or anywhere but here!" Shacklebolt roared, then he spun away from the anxious woman, banging a fist into the nearest wall before spinning back. "Sorry, sorry! Everyone is on edge. Let's face it, without the greasy bastard we are hobbled. His information was bloody invaluable, and now we are losing, Molly! We're losing and he's a living accusation and a testament to our incompetence!"

Remus, huddled in a grey wool blanket, cradled his cup of hot chocolate to his chest as he hunched over it. "I'll take him," he muttered, then coughed hackingly. His case of sniffles had not gone away as he had predicted but grown to a full blown case of influenza, and he was not recovering well. "I'm not good for much else at the moment, but at least I can make sure he's fed and keep him out of everyone's way."

Both protagonists turned to look at the miserable huddle of werewolf. "Would you mind?" Shacklebolt asked as Molly said, "Oh, we couldn't ask that of you."

They turned to glare at each other again.

"I wouldn't mind and I can manage," Remus assured them, lurching to his feet unsteadily. "Besides, I have my own room, and I don't mind sharing with Severus, at least he's quiet. Someone will have to look after him tomorrow night, but I should be right the day after that."

Molly sighed. "Oh yes, full moon. Will you need the cellar?"

"Not if you don't mind a full grown werewolf roaming around the house," Remus half joked, making Molly blush and sigh.

"I'll make sure you have a comfy bed made up."


	13. Braving the Wrath

**Chapter 12** – _Braving the Wrath_

Hermione shivered, biting her lip worriedly. She was going to do it, even if the others thought she was mad or didn't talk to her again or …. She sighed deeply and gave herself a mental shake. What had Professor Dumbledore said in their very first year, '_it was harder to stand up to your friends than your enemies'_, or words to that effect anyway. If the boys caught her, they would be so disappointed and Ron would go ballistic, of course!

It wasn't as if she was consorting with the enemy or anything, they knew it was all right really and it was just a note, for goodness sake, not a criminal offence. Tightening her lip she straightened her spine decisively.

"Look out, Hermione's ready for battle," Harry teased, making her start nervously.

"Oh gosh, you scared me!" she gasped, clutching her chest to still her pounding heart.

"Sorry, didn't mean to. Are you alright?"

She sighed. "I'm fine, Harry; I just have to do something for, for Madam Pince, that's all."

"Oh? It looked as if you were going to have to walk a tightrope over a pit of alligators the way you were steeling up your nerve," he remarked, his eyes shrewd behind his glasses.

Hermione smiled ruefully, Harry had grown up considerably since the events of the last two years, his impulsiveness now tempered by analytical thought and – dare she say it – common sense. The trouble was, he was now much more perceptive and able to read the people around him and that was a little bit scary at times.

"No, nothing so dramatic," she assured him quickly.

"Humm, well, be careful, whatever it is." He half smiled at her start of surprise as he strolled off down the corridor to catch up with Ron and engage his attention.

She didn't have long to wait before the object of her mission came into sight, surrounded as usual by his little gang of minions. Seeing her alone, Parkinson whispered behind her hand and Goyle advanced even though his other bookend had stopped. Draco glanced around quickly, realised the rest of the trio were missing and realised Granger was about to get into very nasty trouble.

"Er, Goyle, did you say 'May I?'" he asked conversationally, a smirk twisting his lips. "Now, now, there is no point in having orders if you fail to obey them, and I did not give you permission to obey Pansy, now did I?" he drawled, his hulking friend stopping immediately, his face twisting horrendously as he thought about that.

"No," he managed, only a few feet from Granger who had fallen back into a defensive stance.

"Draco!" Pansy wailed in thwarted temper, her vaguely pretty face crumpling most unbecomingly, red dots of temper appearing on her cheeks. He wondered briefly if she would ignore him but then she snarled wordlessly and flounced away, choosing to ignore her quarry rather than face him.

"So much for resolve," he murmured speculatively as he watched the girl go. "Keep an eye on her, Goyle; Pansy, I mean," he clarified as the boy turned to glare at Granger. "Crabbe, you had better go with him."

Crabbe blinked then turned and followed his opposite number down the corridor, almost reluctantly leaving Granger and Draco alone in the passageway. "Fancy meeting you here," he drawled, turning to face her blandly.

"We haven't much time but you wanted to know how Professor Snape was. He's alive and moving but he has not regained his mind; a full grown baby. Arthur Weasley told us this morning when he called Ron. I just thought I'd tell you."

The bland smirk slid of Draco's face leaving a genuine expression of worry in its place. "Is there any hope, really?"

"Yes. As soon as Moon is over, Remus Lupin will have charge of him and try to break through to him. I know you don't like Remus, but he is patient and kind and a very good teacher. He also knows some of the Muggle techniques for treating mental problems, so yes, there's a good chance that Remus can get through to him."

"I hope so. I know what you think of Severus in Gryffindor, but he is always good to us in Slytherin. He looks out for us and, well, covers up for us on occasion, especially when it could cause problems for us within our families. I – look – we had better clear off or someone will spring us, and that could be a disaster. Can you meet me in the library this evening after dinner? I'll ditch my familiars, if you ditch yours?"

Hermione had to smile at the light, teasing note he had managed to inject into his voice and nodded her agreement before she could think it to death. "Behind the restricted section, there's a reading room that no one goes into these days."

"Ah! So you are the one who found it, I should have guessed," he teased lightly before strolling away arrogantly, leaving her with a wry smile on her face.

oo0oo

Ginny grinned as she took the pot and the exploding snap cards exploded. Harry shook his head and laughed at her openly gleeful pleasure at beating both him and Ron. Ron humphed in disgust, then raised an eyebrow when Hermione came down the girls' stairs carrying her bookbag.

"Where are you going?" he asked, more to avoid Ginny's eyes than from interest.

Hermione glanced up and grimaced sharply. "_I_ plan to pass my NEWTs with the very best mark I can possibly get. To do so I am going to study _all _the material and all the _related_ material that is available. I have only refrained from nagging at you two as I remember – vividly – how rude you were the last time, at OWLs."

Ron had the grace to look abashed as she strode out of the common room, letting the portrait swing shut behind her. Harry and Ginny exchanged slightly uneasy looks behind his back, then put aside their worry to continue the game. Finally, Ron wandered off to see what Dean and Seamus were up to, leaving his sister and his best friend sitting on the couch before the fire, preparing to finish their game.

Harry gnawed his lip just a little, then realised Ginny was watching him with a quirking smile that made her look unnervingly like her mother. "You didn't believe her either, did you?" he said finally, turning slightly to face her.

"Oh, she was genuinely going to the library and I expect she will be studying hard, but she's up to something else, too. Anne Peterson said she saw Hermione and Malfoy actually talking together in a corridor this morning, but then Rubeus Morgan said Parkinson and Goyle had been harassing her a few moments before that and Malfoy had sent them off. Perhaps he was just giving her the warning." Ginny looked hopefully at Harry.

"Perhaps. She didn't seem frightened or upset, did she? Just a little... brighter than usual, maybe, sort of?" Harry floundered to put his feelings and observations into words.

"Like she had a secret boyfriend, do you mean?" Ginny pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Humm, now there's an intriguing thought."

Harry stared at the redhead, amazed that she seemed more interested than upset at the prospect. "She wouldn't, would she?"

Ginny shook her head pityingly. "Harry, much as I love you, you are just so dense at times! Draco Malfoy is gorgeous, rich and well connected, and I don't mean just to the Dark side, silly. He is Tonks' and Sirius' cousin, as well as Goyle's cousin, you know? He's sort of our cousin, too, if that helps. Hermione is pretty, intelligent and sweet, as well as determined to succeed. If things were different, then no one would be the slightest bit surprised if they got together; but, Harry, there's a war on. Draco is pureblood, Hermione is Muggle-born and neither of them is suicidal."

"Good point," Harry conceded, but it did nothing to sooth his suspicions. It would be just like Hermione to play with the fire Malfoy represented. Although she saw herself as the sensible one of the trio, he was very well aware that, when they found trouble, she was right up there in the thick of it with them. Admittedly, she protested all the way but she never dragged her heels when the chips were down. Still troubled, he curved a protective arm around Ginny's shoulders and both went back to studying the fire.

oo0oo

The room behind the restricted section was dusty and a little stuffy, but the candles were lit and books were strewn over the table when Hermione arrived. Entering cautiously, she paused to study the bent head glowing silver in the candle light as he wrote quickly and precisely. Glancing up, a real smile quirked his lips before it morphed into a slightly superior sneer.

"Well, don't just stand there staring, either come in and close the door before the light is discovered, or go out and close the door and disappear again."

"Charming as ever, I see," she muttered, dropping her bag beside the table leg and sitting down opposite. "What are you studying?"

"Arithmancy, we have Le Conza for it, who do you have?"

"Bixby, she's a darling and so bright!"

"Odd, she always struck me as only half there," he commented and bent back to his work.

Shaking her head, Hermione grinned and settled to study her own books just as diligently. It was pleasant studying with Draco, he didn't huff and puff, or flap pages, scratch his privates, or begin chattering about something totally unrelated. In fact, if not for the constant scratching of the quill or the odd rustle of pages, she would have forgotten he was present. Or at least, that was what she tried to tell herself.

Draco glanced up and stopped, a faint smile turning mischievous as Granger's lips moved as she was reading. It was kind of sweet and he glanced down at what she was studying; ah, of course, Latin!

"It's not as easy as you think," she said without raising her eyes from the page. "I'd never heard this stuff said aloud until I came to Hogwarts."

"My parents provided me with a Latin and Greek tutor when I was five, most families do," he replied simply. "What are you stuck on?"

"This… the 'ook' sort of sound," she said, sliding her book over and pointing to the script.

"Ah yes, I could never get that one either. You have to put your mouth sort of like this." He demonstrated and she giggled before trying to mimic him. "No, no, more like this." He leaned forward a little and took her chin in his palm using finger and thumb to shape her lips, then laughed. "You look just like a goldfish," he exclaimed, then froze in horror as an all too vivid memory took him.

Lucius reached up and shaped his own mouth to demonstrate to the five-year-old Draco how to do it. Giggling, the child said, 'You look just like a goldfish!' Lucius had glared at him and backhanded him off his chair, cutting his lip open and blackening his eye. "I will not tolerate your insolence, Whelp!"

Hermione saw the laughing grey eyes darken with what looked like terror and wondered what had caused such a state. Impulsively she eased the tightening fingers from her cheeks and smiled gently. "Oh, I thought it was more like a _gormless_ goldfish," she said softly and leaned forward to touch her lips to his. "I like gormless goldfish."

He jumped as if touched by a live wire, the horror changing through relief to amusement. "Is that why you put up with Po…"

She placed her finger over his lips to still him. "No familiars in this room, remember?"

He paused then nodded slowly. "No familiars, just Wild Hair and Gormless Goldfish."

Giggling, she thrust the Latin text at him and told him to make himself useful as her language tutor.

oo0oo

It was well past curfew when the portrait swung open soundlessly and Hermione slipped into the silent and shadowed common room, a small, reminiscent smile on her face. She almost screamed when the shadows moved and Harry's bespectacled head rose over the back of the lounge, glasses like two mirrors trained on her.

"Alright, Hermione?" he asked softly, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Alright, Harry," she replied with a quiet conviction that was reassuring to her hearer. "Are you waiting up for me?"

"Well, when my favourite witch disappears to meet with an unknown quantity that might or might not be friendly, it is somewhat worrying."

Hermione sucked a breath. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly. "Hermione, I have known you for nearly seven years, seen you nearly every day and have lived through some of your worst lectures. I know you nearly as well as I know myself or Ron, and I know when you are sneaking around. Since there is no one in this school who is bright enough or good enough for you, the second place getter would have to be Draco Malfoy. And, since we know something about him that I don't think more than seven people in the world know, then I would say you had both better be so very careful that it makes the Order look like yesterday's news story."

"You aren't going to lecture or get angry?" she asked in surprise.

"Do you want me to? Would it make any difference?" He smiled at her shocked expression. "All I can say is be careful, and when you tell Ron be sure there is no one for miles around or he will out you quite by accident." Rising, Harry leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead in passing. "Don't let him break your heart."

oo0oo

Sevvy noticed the smell. It was sweet; a rich smell that seemed to permeate the whole area. It was a comfortable smell, an odd note of hominess in the hell of torture and retribution pounding through his mind. His nostrils flared. Stiffly, careful not to draw attention to himself, he turned, following the creamy smell until he faced away from the wall. His Grandmother hit him with her riding crop again, cutting his shoulders to the bone, but it didn't hurt as much as it had before. The hissing, mocking voices continued to denigrate him with vicious ridicule, but _that smell_….

Remus stared at the cup on the side table, longing to take a sip but just too sore and sorry to even reach for the pot to pour. It had been a vicious transition, from nine o'clock in the evening to late at night. When he had tried to sleep, the slashes in his flesh and the bites down his arms, legs and belly were deep and ragged, gnawing him into waking in starts. His dose of flu had left him weakened; he had paid dearly and would have a new crop of scars by the end of the week. Without Wolfsbane to blunt it, the wolf had taken full advantage of the freedom, inflicting the maximum amount of damage on his human body.

Shaking and weak, he finally managed to get himself into a sitting position and reached a trembling hand for the pot. He almost spilled it, but managed to get the spout to play a tinkling tune on the edge of the cup. The rich liquid – redolent in cinnamon, cream and chocolate – trickled into the cup at an agonising pace. When the cup was half full he gave up and plopped the pot back onto the tray in defeat. He was about to attempt to pick up the cup when he noticed Severus had moved out of his corner and was imperceptibly creeping up on the bed. Snape had an amazing way of shuffling his feet so that he moved around the room without seeming to move a muscle. It was quite funny in a sad sort of a way. How the mighty had fallen and been reduced to a clothes stand, as Arthur had remarked yesterday morning.

Flaring his nostrils, Remus was amazed to smell the interest and concentration his unexpected roommate was exuding. It was the first time Severus had shown any interest in anything outside his own skull for four days. He wondered what was causing the interest, then smiled a smile of sheer enlightenment. The chocolate smell was drawing Snape out of his self-imposed mind trap.

"Do you like hot chocolate, Severus? Molly makes the best hot chocolate in the world, and she puts cinnamon in it for me. Come and sit on the bed here, and we'll split this pot," Remus invited softly.

For a second Severus didn't react, then slowly – almost as if he had forgotten how – he moved his head to raise his chin and bring his eyes to bear on the werewolf sitting against the pillows on the bed. "Choc'late? For Sevvy?"

"Yes … Sevvy, hot chocolate. Come on, sit down here beside me. I can't get up yet so you are going to have to help me."

Stiffly, like a badly oiled machine, Severus inched his way to the bedside and bent his knees. His buttocks touched the grey army blankets lightly, only slowly sinking into the mattress. Remus wondered at Severus' thigh muscles, they must be made of spring steel to move like that, but the skinny man didn't move any further.

"You may pick up the cup, Sevvy," Remus told him gently, giving permission rather than ordering him about.

A long, thin arm reached out as slowly as a sloth to hook long fingers around the cup and raise it in slow motion. Remus watched as it was conveyed toward the thin lips, wishing it was his mouth it was going to anoint but interested in seeing what Severus would do when he tasted the rich, sweet beverage.

The man inhaled, drawing the scent deep into his lungs before he slid out a long, narrow tongue, dabbing it into the cup to test the brew. Remus gasped, the sheer sensuality of his actions making his gut clench hard. Knowing himself well, who and what he was, Remus could appreciate the provocativeness of the man's unconscious actions without acting on them. And while he didn't know if Severus was male-inclined for sure, he could appreciate the long, clean lines of Snape's body and the classic bone structure of his face. Even his broken nose only added character, as far as Remus could determine.

Having tasted the potion, Severus analysed the liquid, his keen brain cataloguing and classifying the ingredients with no trouble at all. He continued to lap at the creamy fluid as if he was a cat, making Remus clench his fists and mewl needily. The tiny noise seemed to penetrate the fog around Severus and he paused, turning his whole body to look at Remus in mild curiosity. This was the most constant figure in his life, him and the red-headed woman with the loud voice and gentle hands. This man had a soft voice, but it was never vicious and hissing, only gentle and kind.

"It's good," he said, not his usually silky, deep tones but a small, light, very childish voice.

"Hot chocolate is always good for what ails you," Remus confirmed gently. "May I have a sip?"

The Snape almost refused, but then sighed and held the cup out with a petulant sniff and a pouting lip.

"You'll have to help me, Sevvy, I have been injured," Remus said evenly, holding out his bandage swathed arms. For a second he thought the man was going to freeze again, but then he moved and raised Remus' head, snuggling it into the side of his torso carefully to support him. The chocolate was not that hot, but the richness of the calories made up for it in an instant. Remus sucked greedily then realised Severus was watching his every move with worried eyes.

Lifting his mouth away, Remus told Severus it was his turn to drink and the man did so, using a more conventional drinking method this time. Slowly they split the cup, then Severus poured more and they finished that one off, too. Exhausted, Remus had Severus lower him back to the bed as his eyes closed and he fell back into dreamless sleep.

oo0oo

'_**Drink it! Drink it, damn you! How dare you disobey me! I am your Head of Family, you will take the potion!'**_

He forced his lips to remain closed, refused to be complicit in his own poisoning. They could not make him drink; in fact, they were not prevailing against his refusal. A tiny spark of astonishment started in the back of his mind, glowing like a renegade coal. He could say 'no' and they could not make him. He could resist!

"No."

Remus paused and glanced at his usually silent companion. "What was that, Sevvy?"

"Poison, don't drink it."

Glancing down at the glass of water in his hand, Remus frowned. "What's poison, Sevvy, the water? It's just water, isn't it?"

The narrow nostrils flared and the lank black hair shimmied as he shook his head in tiny frightened movements. The long, elegant hands twisted together, as if washing, and even the right foot ground toes into the flagstones of the kitchen in an unusual display of anxiety. The rest of the group in the kitchen looked over, puzzled and distressed expressions fading to pity when they realised what was taking place.

Glancing at Molly, Remus frowned then turned to stare at the taps consideringly. "_Acclaro_," he said, flicking his wand in a half-hearted effort.

The spell flared to life, sparks of green flashing in the stone sink below the taps, flashing in the drops that fell from the spout, glittering in the glass Remus held in his hand. He dropped it, and it shattered on the flagstones.

"Poison," Severus smirked in self-satisfaction, then the expression faded and he was again a statue in the corner.

That morning was a turning point of sorts, Severus beginning to take an interest in the outside world. He was nervous to the point of terror, and loud noises made him cringe. When Remus finally managed to get him to talk, Sevvy - as he preferred to be called - told the werewolf he was four years old and he missed his Mummy. He often clung to Remus' robe hem like a little child as the werewolf moved around the study, sorting and cataloguing the various bits of information their sources came up with. Remus didn't mind exactly, but it was sometimes hard to avoid bumping into the man who tended to get in the way.

Finally, Remus sat him down at the library table with a handful of coloured ink quills and a roll of parchment to keep him amused. He was amazed when Sevvy showed considerable adult talent in sketching, making a very precise crosshatched style pen and ink sketch of Remus himself. There was a study of a hand which was obviously Severus' own and a landscape of an idyllic stretch of land somewhere. The most disturbing sketch was of a scene out of a Muggle horror movie with gloating faces and a looming female figure wielding a riding crop. When Remus gently questioned the man, Sevvy pointed to the woman and said she was Grandma; the men were Father and Uncles Gregor and Bastion. Remus asked where Sevvy was in the picture and he pointed to a small black blob in the centre, no form, and no detail, just an uncompromising black blob.

In the evening, Severus took to snuggling up to Remus when they sat in the privacy of Remus' room, content to go to sleep with his head on the werewolf's lap. Remus found that stroking Sevvy's hair from his forehead was almost hypnotic and it relaxed them both, especially when Severus had had a bad day with tremors. He liked to be read to and told stories so Remus obliged, changing the stories to have a brave little boy as the hero where necessary. When he was finally ready to go to bed, Remus would tuck him into his bed, a long comfortable crib-like affair that had been set up near his own four poster bed. Sevvy seemed to like the bed, but he rarely managed to spend all the night in it.

When Severus had a nightmare he would crawl under the covers and wrap himself around Remus' back, snuggling in and rubbing his face into the curve of his neck. That would almost guarantee the Potions Master a good night sleep, but it also guaranteed Remus would get no more rest and a case of raging hormones that were very much out of place as Severus was still a child in his mind, even if his body was drop dead gorgeous!

"As odd as it seems, Molly, it's like having my own child; wonderful and very scary," Remus confided on the third day of taking care of Severus. "He's beginning to read again, picking out the simple words in the newspaper clippings I was looking at last night. He recognised words like 'ball' and 'spell', and I was so damned proud." Remus grinned ruefully at Molly, and they both looked over to where the Potions Master was meticulously stirring some flour and water Molly had given him. They both noticed his stirring was at a precise three hundred and sixty degrees, the spoon perfectly right angled to the base of the bowl and at the end of each rotation, he paused for exactly half a second.

"Be careful, Remus; remember he is not a child, but a rather nasty and vicious man when he is in his own senses. He would tear you apart and destroy you, if he was not ill. There is a lot of enmity between you, too much to be all forgiven in only a couple of days. You must remember we all blamed Severus for killing Dumbledore until we found the Pensieve and learned they had cooked the contingency plan up between them. If you had been a party to the rest of the memory segment, you would have seen that Snape was protecting Draco from You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore knew it, sanctioned it and gave permission for it. However, the majority of us had no access to the Pensieve, and so we were vicious in our condemnation. He has neither forgotten nor forgiven us that human frailty."

"I know, but…. Oh well, on the other hand, he may be a little more forgiving if we are careful of him at this vulnerable time in his life."

"Or, he may end up hating us worse than ever."

"Indeed," Remus agreed with a heavy sigh.


	14. Relating

**Chapter 13** – _Relating_

Draco sat with his elbows on the table, his head cupped in his hands. He stared at the top of the old refectory table, staring deep into the grain through the layers of old polish. This abandoned and dusty room tucked in at the back of the restricted section had become his sanctuary away from the curious eyes of the rest of the school. Without this peaceful place, he thought he would be unable to keep up the façade he had been forced to wear. The strain of living a lie, while the one person he still had any respect for was so badly hurt, was huge! All he really wanted to do was cry, but Malfoys did not cry, nor were they prey to human emotions, except for the negative ones like anger, arrogance and contempt.

Golden sunlight pierced the tiny lancet windows high in the wall, laying a diamond pattern over the table and the book he was supposed to be reading. Dust motes danced in the air, swirling golden clouds that suddenly jumped into agitated life as the breeze from the door opening caused chaos in their movement. Draco did not move but instead tracked the rustle of robes and the soft footfalls that stopped by his elbow.

"So you did come back," he murmured without raising his head, feeling the warmth of her body down his left side as she stood quite close to him.

"Humm, I need to continue my Latin lessons," Hermione said softly, almost reaching out to smooth a wayward strand of fine silver hair. Catching the movement before it even began, she carefully eased away and slid into the seat at right angles to his.

"Humm, Latin lessons but remember the price of the lessons - news of my Godfather," he murmured still without looking up.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know whether the news is good or bad, but here it is - such as it is: Sevvy likes hot chocolate."

Draco looked up sharply, and Hermione drew a gasping breath at the sheer misery in his eyes. They looked like drowned silver moons in his face. "Explain," he demanded.

"I spoke to Molly Weasley and she told me that Severus had begun to use baby talk, preferred to be called Sevvy, and he liked hot chocolate. He spent the day with Remus, sketching in the library, and he had learned to read a few simple words by last night. Draco, he is recovering! The wait is now to see how much he can recover or if he is always going to be a little simple in his mind."

Draco flung himself to his feet and strode back and forward across the tiny room impatiently. "And this is good news, how?" he demanded angrily. "One of the most brilliant minds of the generation and he can now 'read a few simple words'. My Gods, Hermione, that is obscene!"

Hermione almost flinched at the venom in his words but managed to remain still and calm in the face of his anger. Finally, Draco flung himself back into the chair and again cupped his head in his hands as he began to speak in a low, anguished voice.

"I love Severus Snape, more than I love anyone else in this world, including my parents. Hell's Flames, he has been more of a parent to me since I came to school than either of the people who conceived and reared me! Before that even, when he used to visit Malfoy Manor and stay with us for various functions, he was always there when I needed anything. He is always there for any of us in Slytherin, backing us, protecting and watching over us. Oh, I know what the rest of you see: favouritism, blatant bending of rules and a cold, hard man with no humour or pleasure in anything or anyone. You all hate him and that is so unfair. You just don't understand!"

"Make me understand, Draco," Hermione said firmly, realising the Slytherin really needed to talk more desperately than he had ever needed anything else before. "Make me see past the bad attitude and nasty temper."

Draco looked up at her, piercing her with inquisitive and hard eyes. "You'll listen? Okay, let me see. My first memory of Uncle Severus is of being held high in his arms as he lifted me down from a tree, a Christmas tree as it happened. He held me close to him and he was hard and warm and safe; I'd never had safe before," Draco said wonderingly. "I clung to his neck and knew he would not drop me or hurt me or anything, just keep me safe and warm. It was … incredible."

"Surely your parents…?"

"… were too busy for a child. Father wanted an Heir, Mother gave him an Heir. They both forgot that the 'Heir' was a child, a real person, not a doll to be shuffled off into a corner. When they wanted to show me off, I was brought down from the nursery, paraded in front of whomever, then tossed back into the cupboard until I was needed again. That's how most pure-blood families work. Uncle Severus would not tolerate that sort of thing; he actually read me stories and brought me little personal things. I remember once he brought me a piece of rock with pretty patterns in it, a curio piece. My father sneered at the gift, asked Severus if he had lost his mind, but I loved that rock. The patterns made up shapes and pictures and – if you squinted up your eyes – they could be anything you wanted them to be. It was amazing! And he protected me from my parents' wrath all the time, fixing things or lying about things that went wrong. He taught me to ride a broom, you know, and gave me my first toy broom. Father was so contemptuous, calling it a piece of trumpery rubbish, but I loved that broom and rode it all the time, until my father insisted I have a real broom, not a pathetic child's toy. I had to hide it away safely, or Father would have destroyed it. I still have it." He smiled reminiscently, his audience forgotten as he dwelled on the happy memories of trying to fly with Severus holding the string of the toy broom and running along beside him.

Hermione watched in amazement as the expressions chased their way across his face - joy, anger, terror, longing, amusement, the myriad changes making him look more animated and human than she had ever seen him before. When his expression began to close down again, she waited with bated breath for his next revelation.

"He hates child abuse with a passion that could only be called obsession, did you know that?"

"Could have fooled me," Hermione said flatly.

"No, really, he does!" Draco assured her hastily. "Oh, he has a nasty, sarcastic tongue on him, it's expected and perfected over years of practice, but have you ever seen him raise a fist, or even give the suggestion of a smack in all our years of school? Be honest now. No, you have not. My father once back-handed me across the face in Severus' presence and went flying backwards into the fireplace so hard, he cracked his skull. Oh, Severus is very unenthusiastic about everyday wand magic, but he is fantastic at wandless magic, the best I have ever seen. Severus apologised, of course, but his wandless reaction to the action was so violent, my father never dared raise his hand in front of his lover again."

"His lover?" Hermione gasped in shock. "Your father and Severus Snape were lovers?"

"Oh yes, for years before my parents married and then even afterwards; they kept up a relationship until I was perhaps ten. Mother didn't like it, of course, always sniping at both of them, but she had her own lovers, too, so she had little room to talk. They had a blazing row just before I came to Hogwarts, all three of them, and Uncle Severus promised Mother he would bow out gracefully, which didn't exactly please Father but he did accept it. They had been growing apart for years. I think they were still involved through habit, rather than need or want. Anyway, it wasn't just me Uncle Severus protected; he was also protective of all the children who came to our house. I remember Crabbe's father going over the balcony wall and into the shrubbery head first when he tried to kick Crabbe for some perceived fault. Crabbe senior thought he had slipped, but I knew the difference - and so did Crabbe."

"Do all pure-blood families abuse their children?" Hermione asked in horror.

Draco sneered at her. "Being a Death Eater twists a person until nothing really matters any more. Since Death Eater families were all I came into contact with, I can't speak for the rest of the pure-bloods; but in my experience, yes, all pure-blood children of Death Eaters were almost immune to kicks and cuffs which were part of their daily life."

"That's horrible! My Gods, Draco, how did you survive?"

"What is the old saying, 'ignorance is bliss'? If you don't know any better, how can you change something, or even know what should be changed? If not for Severus' quite different attitude, I would still be as ignorant as all my friends, which would be a blessing in a way, but not in another, do you see?"

"Yes, I see," she said softly, stepping up behind him and laying her hands on his shoulders. He froze as her fingers and palms began to knead at his shoulders, her thumbs digging into the rolls of muscle at his spine. "Relax, Draco, I'm not going to hurt you. Haven't you ever had a neck massage before?"

"No," he replied cautiously, allowing his shoulders to loosen and drop under her ministrations. "Oh yes, that is…! Where did you learn to do things like this, Hermione, it is fantastic!" He was literally purring under her hands as his head drooped further and a shiver ran luxuriously down his spine.

Hermione smiled and worked her way up to the base of his skull, thumbs finding odd little knots of tension and smoothing them out. "My mother taught me. She is quite skilled in massage and acupressure and is taking more courses all the time. One day, if it is ever appropriate, I'll give you a full massage and then see how you like it."

Draco didn't reply, he simply purred.

oo0oo

The Slytherin common room was abuzz with speculation when Draco let himself in later that night. Snape hadn't been back to school for nearly a week and Professor Sinistra had been appointed Head of House pro tem until they could find out what had happened to the Potions Master.

"What if he is dead?"

"What if he left the country, or tried to like Karkaroff, and was killed?"

"What if he was really a spy and the Dark Lord killed him?"

"What if he is on a mission for the Dark Lord and all your speculation is drawing unwanted attention to him?" Draco drawled into the crowd, causing instant silence.

"Do you know something we don't, Draco, or are you just trying to make yourself look important?" Price Coleson demanded, pushing forward. His father was a loyal Death Eater, but of a lowly status.

"I know nothing I am not supposed to, and I plan to keep it that way," Draco replied distastefully in the face of the younger boy's salacious curiosity. "In fact, I would recommend that you all cease to speculate immediately, before less friendly ears choose to question what you really know and the repercussions reach further than you expect."

"He is on a mission," the whispers hissed around the room before everyone drew away and very obviously started new topics of conversation with their friends.

Draco sighed and flung himself into a chair, all the relaxation he had felt in Hermione's presence now washed away in the wave of speculation about his godfather. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Staring into the flames, he half smiled when he considered Hermione's news. Severus was getting better, a little better anyway. He could read again, so that couldn't be all bad. Being in the werewolf's care was a bit of a worry, but even if he did not appreciate Remus Lupin as a teacher, he at least respected him. His father had been very keen to either recruit or kill Lupin and had a healthy respect for both his strength of character and his intelligence. He knew Severus did not like the man at all and that had a lot to do with his own attitude toward the werewolf.

Still, if he was honest with himself, Remus Lupin was a patient and dedicated teacher who did not lose his temper and could explain even the most difficult concepts simply. After all, look how well he had managed to get that oaf Longbottom to perform. Perhaps he was the best person to protect a debilitated Snape and bring him back to some semblance of usefulness.

He was snapped out of his reverie by Pansy sitting down on the arm of his chair and smiling at him eagerly. "You do know something, don't you?" she hissed softly.

"Pansy, if I knew something and had been told not to say anything, do you think I would jeopardise either my life or my word by telling you?" he asked harshly. "The Dark Lord has ways of finding out who has been indiscreet and making sure they are never indiscreet again, do I make myself clear?"

Pansy drew back as if slapped, then nodded quickly. "I'm sorry, Draco, I never thought," she apologised quickly.

"No, you never do," he muttered and turned away, leaving her with a hurt pout on her face as he lounged off to bed.

oo0oo

"Professor Lupin? Remus?" The door opened slowly and a messy dark head peered around the door, light glinting off glasses.

Remus looked up blearily, dragged from a fantastic dream of warmth and light. "Wha… Oh, Harry. Yes, of course. What time is it?"

Harry came into the room, then stopped like a deer caught in the light, his eyes as wide as saucers. Remus Lupin, his favourite professor and his Godfather's husband, was in bed with Severus Snape! "Oh shit! I – I'm sorry… I'll come back later!"

Blinking, Remus looked left and sighed. "Settle down, Harry, it's not what you think." _More's the pity_, he added mentally. "He had a bad dream, that's all."

"Professor Snape had a bad dream?" Harry questioned in confusion.

"No, not Professor Snape, just Sevvy. Harry, has anyone told you about Severus? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named nearly broke his body, but unfortunately he finally broke his mind, too. At the moment, Sevvy is about four years old and has a real thing for hot chocolate."

"Oh. So that's what Professor Moody was talking about. Oh, he was in a fine old temper, ranting about the unfairness of it all and how Voldemort was slowly destroying everything in our world. Draco said something similar in the hall yesterday evening, something about the Dark Lord slowly leeching the Light out of the world. He was smirking when he said it and I sort of took offence. That's when we got into a fight and, well, it was not pretty. Professor Lupin, can I ask a serious question?"

"I'm sure you can, Harry," Remus teased a little as he settled against his pillows.

"Thanks. Is Malfoy one of ours or not? He has a Dark Mark but he's, he's not…."

Remus blinked, then made a decision. "He really is a sleeper, a very useful one. Who would suspect a Malfoy of all people? He is one of ours in their camp and one of the few information sources we have left, now that Severus is out of the action. I think it's important that you know that, even if others think to protect you from it. Draco is a strange mix of brave and coward, but he has been a valuable ally ever since he decided You-Know-Who was a raving nutter and not very aesthetically pleasing."

Harry did a double take. "'_Not very aesthetically pleasing_'? You have to be kidding!"

Remus laughed, too. "I told you he was an odd fish."

"He's hanging around Hermione too, and she's not telling him to sod off. In fact, I think I caught them snogging in the back room of the library the other day. I had hoped Hermione and Ron would eventually be a couple, not bloody Malfoy! Damn! I hate the way we're all growing up."

"One of the penalties of being born, I'm afraid. So, how is…" He paused as the stiff figure by his side mewled slightly and began to twitch. "Oh drat, not _more_ tremors. Oh, residual tremors from the Cruciatus Curse, they keep on revisiting long after the deed. Poor Sevvy, it's devastating to see such a fine mind so reduced."

"Excuse me if I don't weep. That greasy git has made my life a living hell for years!"

Remus bowed his head, unable to argue with that.

"And he made sure you were fired from Hogwarts, too," Harry accused childishly, glaring at the stricken teacher as if to punish him after the fact.

"True. However, our history goes back a lot longer and is a lot more delicately balanced than one simple incident. Never mind, just leave it at the fact I owe Severus a debt and I will try to bring him back to full function in payment for that debt. Now Harry, the question is, what are you doing here on this fine Tuesday morning in the middle of term time?"

Harry almost faltered, then sighed deeply. "I overheard something that really worried me yesterday, a couple of Slytherins talking actually. They were trying to find excuses to duck out of the next Hogsmeade weekend, on their parents' orders. Now, it may just be them taking the piss because they saw me lurking close by, but it might not. He has attacked the kids at Hogsmeade before, and I would hate it if any of them did get hurt while I dismissed this information as hearsay and rumour."

"And you couldn't just send an owl?" Remus teased gently, but he did climb out of bed and throw a robe over his pyjamas before padding out, herding Harry before him.

"Owls are disappearing from Hogwarts, some are turning up hurt and others are battered but not broken, their messages plundered. I didn't want to risk Hedwig."

"Oh dear, it's worse than I thought."

They settled in the kitchen and Harry made tea while Remus made toast. Then both of them dissected and discussed Harry's information, including the news of the missing owls.

oo0oo

The dream was a familiar one, the man and the woman arguing over his head, each tugging at his shoulder.

"_You can't keep him forever, that is not fair," the man protested angrily._

"_I can and I will! If that, that pathetic excuse will not grow up and be responsible, then he doesn't deserve a son, and so his son is forfeited!"_

"_Ayalindan! He is an adult and he is responsible, he just doesn't want to be a Minister. It's a career decision, not a slap in the face for you…."_

"_Of course it is! He will do anything he can to spite me, anything! Well, this time he has gone too far. I am taking Roger and he will never see the boy again, ever! At least that way, Roger will grow up with a little ambition and sense of responsibility. He will be an important member of society, instead of a mere flash in the pan!"_

_The man let go and sighed deeply. "You are a fool, Ayalindan, a cruel fool, and you will only cause pain and anguish for all three of you, if you hold to your course. My brother is a stubborn, stubborn man and you are a stubborn woman, so all I can promise is that only the child will be the loser here." He dropped to his knees so that his eyes were on a level with the young Roger's. "You take care, Roger, and remember, no matter what is said, we love you. If ever you need us, just send an owl, okay?"_

"_He'll do no such thing! Now get away from us and never darken the door again!"_

The bang of the door and the howl of the child made him jump awake as usual, but this time the sounds did not stop when he woke, a soft thump and a tiny whimper making him leap out of bed and stumble to the bedroom door to peer out into the hallway.

Severus Snape sat on the floor outside Remus' door, his knees drawn up to his chin, his arms wrapped tightly around them as he rocked and whimpered. His face was buried in his knees and his spine gently banged into the closed door every time he rocked back against it.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Roger asked, surprised when the man flinched at the sound of his voice, hunching up even tighter.

"Remy's gone," the small voice said tearfully, after a long pause. "And the door shut and I can't open it and I don't know what to do!"

Roger sighed deeply, appalled that such an intelligent and private man should be reduced to this. It was not fair of any of them to keep him on display instead of allowing him to retire to the privacy of St Mungo's special wards. Although - and he hated to have to admit it - the werewolf was making a remarkable job of retraining him. Only a few days ago he was a complete mental vegetable and now he sounded about five or six. Reaching over the small huddle of Potions Master, Roger tried the door handle and found it was locked. Even _Alohomora_ didn't work, so Roger carefully levered the man to his feet and led him into his own bedroom for the time being.

Severus seemed surprised and prowled the room like a cautious cat before perching on the edge of the chair Roger indicated, sitting on his fingers.

"So, how do you feel now, Severus?" Roger asked as he began to dress for the day.

"I got the shakes sometimes, but Remy says that's to be expected. If it hurts I am to tell him straight away," Severus said importantly. "Do you get the shakes?"

"No, not the way you do," Roger assured him with a small smile.

"You're a medi-wizard, aren't you? Remy says you are the best in the Order and probably one of the best in the world. Do you know everything?"

Roger turned with a raised eyebrow, a smile for the naïve question, but the man looked as deadly earnest as only a very young person could. "Not everything," he temporised easily.

"Do you know what this is?" Severus asked pulling up the pyjama sleeve and showing the Dark Mark etched so blackly into his arm. "Remy says not to worry about it, but I think it's a bad thing and he won't tell me anything about it. Can you?"

Roger cursed Remus under his breath but had to say something in the face of the expectant look. "The mark is the sign a very bad man uses to make his followers do as he says. You have the mark because you are usually a spy against the bad man, but you were hurt and you have to have some time to recover."

"Oh," the damaged man seemed to take time to digest this news. "It doesn't wash off, you know? I even used the pot scrubber but it didn't come off in the bath."

"No, Severus, it doesn't wash off," Roger told him sadly.

"It hurts sometimes, not bad, just like a bunch of needles. Was I bad, too?"

For a moment Roger wondered how to answer that one, then shrugged. "When you were very young you did a stupid thing and took the mark willingly. Then you found out the real things the bad man wanted you to do and you decided you were going to destroy him, so you went to Albus Dumbledore and chose to be a spy for the Light."

"Did the bad man find out? Is that why he hurt me?"

"No, Severus, he hurt you because he wanted to and because he could."

"Humm, he is a very, very bad man, then."

Roger laughed bitterly and nodded his head, a deep sigh gusting out of him as the Potions Master's attention wandered away from the subject. "I'm hungry, can I have some breakfast?"

oo0oo

If Remus was surprised to see his charge follow Roger into the kitchen, he didn't let on, simply indicating a seat close to him and conjuring toast and jam onto a plate. Harry watched nervously as his Potions Master ate toast, biting it into shapes and making them walk across his plate while singing to himself in a small undertone.

"Don't dip the toast in your milk, Sevvy, it gets all soggy," Remus said off-handedly and closed his eyes resignedly as the man stuck the very tip of his tongue out cautiously. Shaking his head, Remus rolled his eyes and Harry giggled slightly hysterically. "He is worse than a two-year-old at times."

"Am not!" Severus said sulkily. "I _like_ soggy toast!"

"Then dip it if you wish but if the end falls off and lands in the milk, don't come whining to me again. You have been warned."

"He really is…. Oh man, that is the spookiest thing I have ever seen," Harry muttered in an undertone as the most feared teacher in the school smirked triumphantly and plunged his toast triangle into his glass of milk in satisfaction. "Will he ever get back to normal again? Will he even remember any of this if he does?"

"Who knows?" Roger sighed as he made himself some coffee and joined them at the table. "Should he be doing that?"

"Ignore him, he is just being awkward," Remus said firmly. "Harry brought some grave news. He fears there will be an attack on Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Where's Hogsmeade?" Severus piped up, a milk moustache on his lip. "I don't want to go there, Remy, bad things are going to happen in the sweetshop and the joke shop. You shouldn't go there either, but he can 'cus I don't like _him_!"

"So some things still don't change," Harry remarked, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out back at the man who was scowling at him.

"Sevvy, behave yourself. What do you mean bad things at the sweetshop and the joke shop?" Remus pressed gently.

The scowl turned into a puzzled frown, then his bottom lip began to tremble. "I can't remember," Severus said miserably, then started as the toast finally dropped into the milk with a soggy splash. Severus stared in astonishment at the wet puddle, then up at Remus in utter surprise. "Wow, you were right, Remy, it did fall in!"

Shaking his head and motioning to Harry to stop laughing, Remus resettled his charge before ducking out and making a firecall to Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley Shacklebolt. If there was to be an attack on Hogsmeade that very weekend, then they would have to do some very fast planning to save as many people as possible.

oo0oo

"What you doin'?"

"Reading," Remus looked up from the book that had made him chuckle aloud to see Severus' eyes bright and black on him.

"'s funny?"

"Yes, it's about Death, who is a skeleton in black robes, his friend Death of Rats and his granddaughter Susan."

Severus cocked his head on one side then rolled his eyes in an all too familiar way. "Death is not a person and how can it have a granddaughter?"

"It's a Muggle story, Sev, fiction for fun. You are too young to be such a sceptic," Remus teased, patting the cushions beside him on the sofa.

Sev lunged forward and bounced on his backside, shuffling up close so he could look at the book, too. "It's all big words and no pictures," he complained with a whine in his voice.

"Would you like me to read some to you?"

The dark head nodded vigorously, sending his long black hair bobbing about wildly.

"Okay, it's called _Soul Music _by Terry Pratchett."

Molly heard the very strange noise coming from Remus' room and tapped lightly before putting her head in. She blinked in astonishment when she saw Severus Snape curled up beside Remus Lupin and laughing until tears rolled down his face. "Well, you _are_ looking better, both of you. Would you like some sandwiches and perhaps some hot chocolate?"

"That would be wonderful, Molly." Remus grinned, a finger keeping their place.

"And some tomatoes, please," a small, almost childish voice asked, and Molly managed to smile although Remus caught the shock in her eyes.

"I brought some fresh ones down from the Burrow's gardens this morning, so tomato it is."

When Remus tucked Sev into bed that night, Sev flung his arms around him and kissed him. It was a very adult kiss and, as Remus responded, he felt Severus' hand slide down to cup his buttocks, kneading gently. Gasping, Remus pulled away to study the sleepy black eyes intently but there was no guile there, just tired contentment and remembered laughter. Even though Sev didn't join him in his bed that night, Remus slept badly through some very erotic dreams.


	15. Setup

**Chapter 14** – _Setup_

Minerva McGonagall stared at the Auror with a glare that should have lifted his skin off. "Do you mean to tell me that monster plans to attack my children in the very village right on our doorstep? How dare he! The very idea! Of course I shall cancel the Hogsmeade weekend and confine the children to the grounds, but what is to stop the Death Eaters coming to attack us here if they fail to get anyone there?"

Shacklebolt frowned. "We will have patrols all around the area and aerial patrols out. Our main concern is that they will use a vanguard of Dementors against our forces. Our people can guard against the demons but only in limited numbers."

"Hogwarts will protect against their invasion," Minerva assured him grimly.

"Well, that is debatable. If you remember a few years ago, the Dementors were let onto Hogwarts grounds by order of the Ministry. Our greatest fear is that, in having gained legitimate entrance once, they can take illegitimate entrance this time."

"No, I helped Albus reinforce the wards and charms against them once we had cleared them out. The grounds will repel any Dementor stupid enough to approach, and if they are silly enough to press the issue, they will be destroyed, that I promise you."

"And if we press them against the wards?" Shacklebolt asked alertly.

"Makes no difference how they get there, as long as they are against the wards, they are deemed to be attacking the school, and the school will push back."

"Good!" Kingsley exclaimed in pleased satisfaction. "Now we must address the problem of the enemy within. We know there are a few junior Death Eaters amongst the student body, and they need to be contained so that they cannot be used to make a hole in the defences. Any suggestions?"

Minerva bowed her head and sighed deeply. "We only know of three marked Death Eaters, Parkinson, Goyle and Malfoy. There are others we suspect of having sympathies, but there is not a lot we can do about that. For Goyle, I think he will have detention with Filch and Pansy can serve detention with me. As for Malfoy…."

"Remus wants him down at Grimmauld Place to look after Severus while Remus is out patrolling. He said something about sending both Malfoy and Hermione down together."

"Did he now? How interesting? Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy have been keeping company in the library this past week, secretly. I don't think any of their friends know anything," Minerva mused, then frowned at Kingsley. "Do you think it wise to let them go down together?"

Shacklebolt gave it serious thought, then nodded decisively. "Yes, I do. Malfoy is slippery and tricky, but Hermione is fast and better trained as well as being just as intelligent, or even more so, than Malfoy. Besides, when it comes to judging people, I think we must both trust Remus in these matters."

"Right you are. I shall remove Mr Malfoy with some excuse or other by sending him off. I'm sure the other two will provoke some sort of trouble in the very near future."

oo0oo

"Oh, Mr Malfoy, wait a moment, won't you?" Agytha Sinistra called as the blond boy rose to leave Astronomy class.

"Yes, Professor Sinistra," he chirruped charmingly, his minions ranged at his back expectantly. While he was not happy to have the woman as their temporary Head of House, he did not want to antagonise her.

"There's been a note from your mother, and you are to report to the Headmistress' office tomorrow morning at eight fifteen."

"Eight fifteen?" he echoed in dismay, ignoring the snickers from his friends.

"Indeed. I assume you should wear street clothes rather than uniform," Sinistra returned blandly, hiding her own laughter as she strolled off. Malfoy was notoriously hard to wake up.

Draco exchanged glances with Crabbe and Goyle, ignoring Pansy's snickers. "What has my dear Mother arranged for me tomorrow?" he wondered as they wandered off down the corridor.

A group of Hufflepuff juniors coming toward them made Goyle grin as he and Crabbe moved in front of Draco. The small kids immediately tried to get out of the way of the bigger, older Slytherins, but Goyle made that impossible, even though Crabbe merely fended them off to the side. One boy managed to avoid Goyle's push only to be tripped by Pansy, who calmly and calculatedly kicked him in the short ribs.

"Miss Parkinson and Mr Goyle, how dare you attack younger children without provocation!" Madam Hooch's voice cut through the cries of pain and fear, making the two named participants freeze on the spot, exchanging grimaces of disgust. "Fifty points from each of you, and both of you will serve detention tomorrow. I am sure I heard Filch discussing some heavy moving he planned for tomorrow, Goyle; and you, Miss Parkinson, can help me clean and service the school brooms for the day."

"But it's a Hogsmeade weekend," Goyle complained only to be dug in the ribs by Parkinson who looked almost pleased with herself.

"You can, all four of you, go straight to your common room immediately and don't come out, except for dinner this evening, until breakfast tomorrow. Goyle, you report to the dungeons and, Parkinson, report to me, at eight o'clock." She hurried off in a swirl of robes, leaving the four Slytherins standing in the empty, deserted corridor, the Hufflepuffs having fled without looking back.

"Well, that's a pain in the arse," Crabbe said flatly. "What am I going to do now? With you two in detention and Draco off with his mother somewhere, I'll be on my own."

"Well, just don't go into Hogsmeade, remember," Pansy said self-importantly as Draco wandered off in the direction of the Slytherin common room again.

oo0oo

Hermione nodded as she passed the gryphon that moved out of her way when she said the password. For today she had dressed herself in a neat pink knit shirt, a pair of old and well worn jeans, and a rucksack of odds and ends slung over her shoulder as instructed. She had no real idea of why she had been summoned to the Headmistress' office but had gone along willingly. The announcement at breakfast that the Hogsmeade weekend had been cancelled due to a burst sewerage main in the middle of the village had been a disappointment, but she really didn't like the idea of being contaminated with raw sewage, nor had any of the other kids.

To compensate, Professor McGonagall had announced there would be a picnic lunch served in the grounds and a games carnival with old fashioned competitions - including an egg and spoon race, a sack race and a three legged race - held on the lake shores. While Hermione noticed a lot of the kids in Gryffindor had complained bitterly, they had also been eager to choose partners for the races, and quite a few had been practising their three-legged skills in the common room. Ron and Harry had tied their legs together and flip-flopped all over the hearth rug, much to the juniors' delight.

As she entered the office, Hermione glanced toward the desk, half expecting to see a familiar silver head bent over the surface. It had been almost a year since Professor Dumbledore died, but it was still a rude shock to the system to see Professor McGonagall in his place. Shaking off the feeling of wrongness, Hermione hurried over and smiled down at the Professor who used to be the head of her house.

"You asked me to come, Professor," she said quietly as the old woman looked up and smiled.

"I did, Miss Granger, I have a job for you, and I hope you will not refuse to undertake it. I know from the Hogwarts Book that you babysit children during the school holidays and you also take care of children when you are helping out at your parents' surgery. Remus Lupin also knows you are good with children and has asked for you personally to babysit his current charge…."

"I didn't know Remus had a child," Hermione exclaimed in surprise.

Minerva sighed deeply. "He doesn't; in point of fact, what he has is a full grown man with the mental age of about nine years old to look after…"

"Professor Snape! You want me to babysit Professor Snape!" Hermione exclaimed in shock, then giggled. "Whoa, that is bizarre. Do you think he will behave for me? Professor Snape, I mean."

"My dear, Professor Snape does not exist at the moment, only Severus is there, a childish but still brilliant boy of perhaps nine or ten years of age, somewhat supercilious but still a child; a very intelligent child in a man's body." Minerva sighed and shook her head. "You are almost eighteen years old, Hermione, and a lot more mature than most of your age, so I say this to you in complete confidence. Severus' first childhood was totally horrendous, something no child should ever experience. Now, in his second childhood, we are all doing our best to care for him as compassionately and carefully as his family never did."

Hermione sighed. "I can put prejudice aside and look after Severus Snape as if he was any other nine- or ten-year-old child, I promise you."

"I hope so, my dear, but to help you in your endeavours, I have asked Draco Malfoy along, too. He is Severus' godson and has known Severus all his life. Draco is nearly as clever as Severus and just as cunning and tricky. I think, between the two of you, you may entertain Severus while Remus is away. Draco should be here very shortly. Do you feel up to sharing this task with him?" Minerva smiled as the girl before her blushed, paled, then blushed again.

"I - I think so," she stammered as the door opened and Malfoy entered as if he owned the office.

Draco was not a happy soul at eight fifteen in the morning with barely a bite of breakfast to his name. He had chosen a town outfit, very expensive, black tailored broadcloth with a black stock and a pale blue silk shirt, the sort of outfit his mother would expect her son to wear to meet her in town. There was a diamond pin nestled in his tie and a couple of rings on his fingers, including the Malfoy seal. He looked the perfect pureblood heir as he slouched up to the Professor's desk and barely managed to stifle a yawn.

"Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall greeted, smiling at the blond youth with a reminiscent air. This was how the boys of her past used to dress. "I have a task for yourself and Miss Granger…"

The pale silver eyes snapped open, and he turned to stare at the girl with complete surprise. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't see you there," he apologised with exquisite manners.

"That's alright, I know you don't like to keep these ungodly hours," Hermione accepted graciously. "Are you awake yet?" she asked teasingly.

"Not so you'd notice," he stifled a yawn, then smiled sleepily. "Trust Mother to get me up at dawn, she has this hang-up about sleeping in past the cock's first crow."

"I'm afraid, Mr Malfoy, I have dragged you out of bed under false pretences," McGonagall said in satisfaction as she handed the youth a note. "Your mother did not owl you, although I think that is a fair forgery of her hand, if you need to show her the note. What we have arranged for you, and Miss Granger, is a day of babysitting."

Draco turned incredulous eyes on the old woman, his lip curling into a sneer. "Malfoys do not 'babysit'," he said in disgusted tones.

"Not even for your Godfather?" Minerva met his glare with a smirk that became even broader as the sense of her words sank in. "Indeed, Remus Lupin has a task to accomplish for the Order, and he has asked that you and Miss Granger be allowed to babysit his charge, Severus Snape, for the rest of the day until he returns. Are you willing to do that, Mr Malfoy, or do you want me to _Obliviate_ you and send you back to your dormitory with a false set of memories."

"Look after Uncle Severus, of course I will." Draco was wide awake now and leaning forward eagerly. "I… yes, of course I will!"

Professor McGonagall gave him a genuine smile as she rose and picked up a canister of floo powder offering it to them both. "Off you go then, no time to waste."

oo0oo

The floo dropped them on a hearth rug that showed Molly Weasley's cleaning efforts very clearly. Although it was threadbare, it was perfectly clean and neat. Draco stepped aside and caught Hermione's arm as the fireplace spat her out, steadying her with exquisite courtesy. Having never experienced such care from her friends, Hermione was intrigued all over again.

Smiling softly, she allowed the Slytherin to guide her out the door and into the hallway, both glancing up. A thundering pound of footsteps on the stairs made them both blink in surprise. Severus Snape jumped the last four steps and landed with a thump in front of them, an all-too-familiar sneer twisting his lips, although his words were surprising.

"Are you two my babysitters? Humph! You don't look like much!" he sneered angrily. "Remus! The bloody babysitters are here!" he bellowed up the stairs.

"Don't swear, Sev, it is unbecoming!" a voice floated down, and Severus grinned evilly as he poked his tongue out at them. "Sorry, Remy!' he carolled, the tone out of keeping with the horrendous face he pulled at the two new arrivals.

"Well, some things don't change," Hermione muttered as the tall man turned his back on them and kicked at the bottom step.

"Interesting greeting," Draco commented aside. "I could have sworn Severus had truly exquisite manners."

The back turned to them stiffened, and the man turned to glare at Draco, who merely raised an eyebrow in supercilious questioning. Hermione managed not to smile as the Potions Master turned fully and gave a low and proper bow. "My apologies, Mademoiselle, it seems I was discourteous in the eyes of your companion. Please, allow me to escort you to the kitchen." He offered his arm and forcibly tucked Hermione's hand into the crook of his elbow. They proceeded to promenade up the hall, Hermione casting frantic looks over her shoulder, Draco smothering his snickers as he followed them.

Molly glanced up and gave them a puzzled smile, hurrying forward to envelope Hermione in a hug. "Oh, my dear, I am so glad you could come. I really didn't want to leave Severus on his own today. Yes, yes, Severus, I'm quite sure you would manage very well. Do sit down, dear, and you, Draco. Can I get you coffee or tea? Severus, please don't play with the butter. Would you like some breakfast? What would you like?"

"Boiled eggs and toast soldiers," Snape replied promptly. "Can I have some coffee, too?"

"You know you never actually drink it, Severus, how about some milk instead?"

"Okay. Then can Remy have some coffee?"

"Remus does not drink coffee, as you very well know," Molly replied in fond exasperation. "Honestly, Hermione, he is worse than the twins at times. Draco, would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Why can he have coffee and I can't?" Severus immediately said huffily, as Draco opened his mouth.

"Because I'm older than you and she asked me, not you," Draco shot back with an evil grin.

"I'm taller than you!"

"You are taller than most people, but that isn't going to help you here!" Draco leaned back in his chair and smirked at his Head of House in a most challenging way.

"I hate you," Severus muttered, then grinned at the blond boy. "You're Draco, aren't you? You were a baby once. What happened?"

Draco dropped his chair back onto four legs. "We grew up."

"Humm, I did too, didn't I? But I don't remember that just now, do I?"

"That's right, Uncle Severus, but you will, in time. And you are still not getting any coffee; you know it upsets your stomach." He smirked as Severus snorted, but the issue of coffee was dropped.

Remus came hurrying in, his robes twisted, his hair still wet from the shower. Whirling through the kitchen, he grabbed a cup of tea, a couple of pieces of toast and dropped into a chair next to Severus. "You forgot to make your bed again, you lazy little stinker," he complained as he ate at a great rate. "And you left the tap running in the bathroom. Please be more careful in future."

"Sorry, Remy," Snape muttered, then grinned slyly. "I had to greet the babysitters, remember? That's Hermione, she's a bookworm know-it-all and that's Draco, he's my godson, I remembered."

Pausing, Remus stared at his charge then smiled happily, making Severus smile back with equal joy. "Well done! Although it is not polite to call Hermione names; she does know a great deal, and I'll bet if you are nice to her, she will help you with your studying. Severus is relearning arithmancy and astronomy," he mentioned to the babysitters. "And both of them are very good at potions," he added in an aside to Severus.

"No, they aren't!" Severus protested immediately. "Nobody is good at potions, they always get it wrong! Why do they always get it wrong?"

Remus just shook his head in resignation.

"Because they aren't potions nerds like you!" a new voice replied pertly, and Hermione grinned as Tonks wandered into the kitchen dressed in her Auror's robes. "Ready people, the show is about to start and we are going to miss the first act if we don't get a move on. See you, Sevvy baby, don't harass anyone and don't kill the babysitters."

"Bugger off, Tonks!" Snape replied haughtily, then they both spoiled it by poking their tongues out at each other in unison.

"I _wish_ you hadn't taught him that trick," Remus complained as he hurried out after the metamorphmagus, his toast still in his hand.

oo0oo

Severus was lying down on his bed, snoring lightly although he protested bitterly against going. Draco and Hermione were slumped side by side on the sofa, exhausted! They had both been drained of every drop of their hard-won knowledge in the endless barrage of questions Severus had tossed at their heads, between hurling insults and giggling like a drain at their efforts.

"He is _relentless_," Draco complained wearily, rolling his head to look at the girl, too tired to raise it properly.

"He pretty much swallowed elementary and intermediate arithmancy, and all but accused me, _me_, of slacking off when I couldn't run him through advanced tertiary arithmancy. I am only just getting the hang of that now!" She rolled her head and almost jumped when her lips grazed Draco's, but she didn't have the energy to move.

"Humm, that was nice," he murmured, rolling his head closer and moving gently against her lips. "You taste like cinnamon toast and tea," he commented dreamily. "I told you Severus had a brilliant mind; nasty, but brilliant."

Hermione smiled and kissed back softly, an equally dreamy lassitude overtaking her as her head rolled a little further and landed on Draco's shoulder. "This is nice, isn't it? Pity we can't associate at school; I would like to see more of you," she said, honest in her sleepiness.

"I'd like to see more of you too, Wild Hair," Draco confirmed, sliding an arm around her shoulders and snuggling into the soft brown mass that threatened to ensnare him forever. There was not even a yawn as they both sank into a contented and gentle sleep.

oo0oo

Harry was propped against the headboard of his bed, his potions text leaning against his knees as he reviewed the latest lesson with Slughorn. While he was always careful to go along with Slughorn's very egocentric and extremely slimy ways, he was equally careful to give as little as he could away. His grades in potions were outstanding, thanks to his textbook, which he knew was Snape's and his respect for Professor Snape's abilities had grown exponentially, thanks to that text book. Slughorn, while giving him good grades and buckets of praise, never struck Harry as trustworthy.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and by rights they should have been indulging in Honeydukes' sweets and the Weasley twins' joke inventions, but Professor McGonagall had called it off, thanks to a broken sewer pipe that was going to take more than magic to fix. It often surprised Harry that sometimes sheer grunt work, with a pick and shovel, was necessary to augment the role of magic in major repairs. A group of Muggle council workers was imported for the job as part of a public works project, then casually _Obliviated_ and reprogrammed before being sent off about their usual work again. It didn't seem fair to Harry, but that was how it had always been done and would probably continue to be done into the future.

Ron was lying on his stomach, his head buried in one of his own text books. Unfortunately, his snores betrayed the fact that he was not really studying very hard. Glancing across, Harry shook his head, then realised Neville was also grinning at their fellow Gryffindor. They laughed and were about to go back to their study when a flash of light caught Harry's eye. Frowning, he sat up straighter and abandoned his text book to peer out the window in the direction of Hogsmeade. Neville came up beside him, and they both waited for the next flash.

"I don't think that is a thunderstorm," Neville remarked apprehensively.

"Not unless lightening has turned green and red and there is no thunder to be heard," Harry replied grimly, bounding across to shake Ron awake.

All three Gryffindors watched the distant flashes apprehensively while below them on the green lawn by the lake, the younger children continued to run around and join in the absurd races and contests their teachers had arranged for their amusement. The sounds of their carefree laughter contrasted ominously with the unexplained and sinister flashes on the horizon. Dean and Seamus came into the dormitory laughing at some joke, before they noticed the other three crowding into the casement and joined them. A bigger, brighter flash seemed to cast odd-coloured shadows over his companions' faces as Harry turned to study them intently.

"It's a battle, isn't it?" Seamus said softly, looking to Harry with an apprehensive frown.

"Yes. Obviously, this is why they didn't want us in Hogsmeade today," Harry muttered distractedly, as he pushed past his fellow seventh years and rummaged in his trunk.

"Hey, Harry, what are you after?" Ron asked cautiously, hoping his friend didn't have some mad scheme to join the battle in mind. It was one thing to get caught up in a fight, quite another purposely to join in a battle already started.

Grunting in triumph, Harry pulled out omnioculars and hurried back to his position at the forefront of the small group. Peering through the 'scope, he studied the flash as the roofs of Hogsmeade flashed closer, a figure running across the tiles, his wand emitting flashes of green, red and purple light before he disappeared from sight.

"Was that Remus?" Ron asked in surprise, his eyes much sharper than Harry's over distance.

"It sort of moved like him, maybe," Harry muttered, still peering through the small device. "Damn, the aqueduct is right in the way!" he muttered in disgust.

"The kiddies haven't noticed anything happening, thank God," Seamus observed softly, peering down into the games area with a rueful smile. "I guess we just have to wait."

The other three nodded distractedly but didn't move away from the window until no single flash of light happened for half an hour.

oo0oo

Hermione woke slowly, barely managing to pry her eyes open before a very familiar and yet unfamiliar voice spoke.

"You like him, don't you? You are both going to get into such trouble," the voice said softly, sadly.

Severus sat cross-legged on the hearthrug in front of them, sketching in the large book he had propped on his knees. His long hair, shiny and clean, fanned out around his face as his head moved in time to his rapidly moving hand. He peered up through the black curtain and half smiled when he caught her eye. "He's a Slytherin and you are a Gryffindork; he's a Pureblood and you are a Mudblood; he is a Death Eater and you are a Light Witch. They do say opposites attract, and you two couldn't get much more opposite if you set out to try." The black eyes seemed to pierce her skull for a second, then the thin pale lips twitched into a half smile. "Don't let his Mum and Dad find out 'cus they will kill you both. And remember, the female of the species is most often the more deadly of the two. Lucius is an evil bastard but Narcissa is a crusader, and fanatical with it. Can we have some tea soon, I'm hungry and I want Remy."

The switch from oracle to little boy almost threw Hermione, but then she smiled at the boy in the man's body, putting aside past history and other absurdities. "As soon as Draco wakes up, I'll put the kettle on. Would you like to make toast on the fork and perhaps make some roast marshmallows and chestnuts? Do you like chestnuts?"

Snape smiled, nodding his head hard enough to make his hair fly about, and she grinned at the sheer enthusiasm he showed.


	16. The Battle for Hogsemeade

**Chapter 15** – _The Battle for Hogsmeade_

The two Death Eaters at the top of the Alley had them pinned down against a cluster of dustbins. Remus and Mundungus exchanged glances, readying themselves. Before they could spring, a virulent yellow hex slammed into Dung's back, exploding his chest outward, spraying the wall behind him. The blast tossed Remus back against the wall, stunning him for a second and the wolf howled, revelling in the blood and gore coating his face and side.

Horrified, Remus reined in the wolf and realised there were Death Eaters before and behind, his partner beyond help. Glancing around wildly, he spotted a ledge some twelve feet up the opposite wall and a second storey window above his head. The alley was barely eight feet wide, but there was enough space for the wolf to operate. Spraying both ends of the alley with a stream of curses, Remus thrust his wand between his teeth and took two running steps before springing up the wall. His fingers gripped the ledge, pulling his feet up level with his hands, his soft-soled boots found purchase and he pushed off, springing outward with inhumanly strong muscles to reach the window ledge. Another mighty twist and spring sent him careening up onto the slates of the roof, seeking purchase on the steep pitch until his boot soles caught and he crouched there, an unlikely ornament as he caught his breath.

Below, the Death Eaters were glancing around wildly and Remus smiled toothily as he took careful aim. The first hex cut the taller of the two in half, its path slashing the second Death Eater deeply enough to make him drop his wand. As soon as he realised his aim was true, Remus turned to the other end of the alley and sent a _Confundus_ charm in their direction as they seemed to be rallying quicker than he liked. As the confundus hit, he sent a purple haze of smother gas after them before they could escape, and turned away.

Running along the roof ridge, he came to the next alley and jumped the gap with ease, landing lightly on the next roof peak with superb balance. Even as he straightened, a hex shrieked past his head, singeing the hair in passing. Without thinking, Remus ducked and slid down the lichen covered slates, coming to rest with his feet firmly planted on the top of a dormer window roof. Leaping from one window to the other, he avoided two more following hexes before bounding back up to the roof peak and disappearing behind a pair of chimney braces.

Peering around the terracotta chimney pot, he spotted a flap of black and grinned wickedly as he gathered enough power for an overhand cast. Using his wand as a fly fisherman dances his fly, Remus cast wide and high, the stream of power arcing up and around to flip behind the chimney brace. There was a cry of shocked pain and the Death Eater jumped sideways to avoid the whip, only to come into full view of the lurker behind the chimneys. Grinning wolfishly, Remus physically slammed into the Death Eater, his arms wrapping around the man's waist and he set his feet against the tiles, using them as a child uses an ice slide.

The Death Eater shrieked as he was born bodily forward with no control, the edge of the roof looming close. His feet madly scrabbled for purchase but the werewolf lifted him up, tossing him arcing and screaming into the air. Arms windmilling wildly and shrieking all the way, the black-clad foe hit the cobbles of the street three storeys below with a dull splat. He did not move again.

Remus grinned in satisfaction as he hit the guttering with both feet and jumped down the same distance, landing lightly and flexing his knees to take the impact. A hex zinged over his head and he rolled into the shadow of a porch, the honeysuckle growing around the lattice still perfuming the air, underpinned by the smell of spent magic and blood. A sound behind the door made Remus stiffen and knock against the wood determinedly. "You bloody-well stay inside, you hear!" he called loudly enough to be heard by the house's inhabitants without being heard across the street.

There was a scrabble of retreating footsteps but Remus lost interest as a Death Eater darted into the street to kneel beside the body of the fallen. Ignoring his own safety, the black-clad idiot raised his wand and began to cast _Mors Mordre_. A hail of silver and blue sparks lashed out at the skull and snake symbol, tearing it to doll rags before it could even form properly. The Death Eater swore viciously and spun on a toe, casting a very Dark hex in the direction of the ducking Auror. It caught the red-clad figure in the back, a high pitched scream of agony breaking out as the Death Eater dissapparated with a wicked laugh.

Remus darted forward and stopped in shock when he realised what sort of hex was clinging to the back of the Auror. Someone else in red darted up beside him and was about to tear the hex off when Remus stopped him with a hand. "Do that and you will kill the victim," he muttered, dropping to his knees beside the prone figure and carefully raising his wand. The black hex tensed and the victim whimpered in agony but Remus merely set a pale green light on the tip of his wand. With exquisite delicacy he began to stroke the air above the black mass with the lighted tip of his wand, as if it was nervous and shy cat. Slowly, he coaxed a tendril that was creeping up toward the victim's head to lift and curl in the air, waving slowly. Another of the tendrils lifted, joining its fellow until half the mass was swaying in the air.

Slowly, Remus encouraged the mass to move off the fallen Auror's neck, working it carefully down his spine until someone yelled '_goddamned dirty werewolf_' and slammed into Remus' back. He yelped, his wand jerked the tiniest little fraction, and the black mass reacted, breaking free of the careful spell Remus had woven. The tendrils tried to reattach themselves to the fallen Auror but a shielding charm sprang up between them and the red-clad back. The last remaining tendrils tore free of the victim, ripping skin, flesh, bone and worst of all, spinal cord out as they convulsed. Remus let out a cry of horror even as the victim shuddered and went deathly still.

"You stupid fool, Dawlish! You have just killed Hestia!" someone snarled, probably Moody, but Remus was shaking too hard to notice. "Come on, Remus, can you get up? I've never seen anyone release so much of that vampire spell without damage before."

"I could have worked it free, all of it," Remus whispered, a tide of bitter gall flooding his soul. "I could have removed it all without damage! YOU STUPID FOOL!" He turned and sprang at the startled Auror but Tonks, Shacklebolt and Moody intercepted his rush, holding him clear of the shocked and frightened idiot.

"No, Remus! He's not worth it," Tonks yelled in the werewolf's ear, his struggles lifting her off the ground despite his evident exhaustion. "Where are you hurt, Remus, you're all covered in blood."

"I'm not hurt, Mundungus was blown up so it's his and the Death Eater I threw off the roof." Remus struggled to leash the wolf again, panting hard with the effort. "Oh Merlin, I tried, Tonks, I tried to stop the bloody hex. Was it really Hestia? Damn it, I taught her eldest her first DADA, and she still has two little ones at home, doesn't she?"

"She's still alive, Remus, you didn't fail," Tonks assured him as the inhabitants of Hogsmeade slowly began emerging from the houses around them. "Hey, Rosmerta, got a chocolate liqueur? I think he could use it about now."

The barkeep hurriedly threw open the doors and allowed the Aurors to bring in the walking wounded while healers from St Mungo's came apparating in to check the badly injured. Both Remus and Tonks turned in the doorway of the Three Broomsticks to watch as four medi-wizards joined forces to transport Hestia, keeping her flat and still while they apparated. Rosmerta had already poured hefty shots of the liqueur ready for them as they limped up to the bar. All around them, the walking wounded were treated for minor hexes and charms, some with greater success than others. Someone called out and Tonks dragged Remus over to where a fellow Auror groped around, his eyeballs turned into small blue jellyfish that waved tentacles feebly.

Shaking his head, Remus said the counter incantation and returned the jellies to eyeballs much to the Auror's relief. His success was noted and his expertise called upon many times in the next hour. Finally, weary to the depths of his inhuman endurance, he found a space under a table and curled into a ball for a nap. Tonks discovered him there and carefully covered him with her cloak when he failed to respond to her gentle shaking.

oo0oo

_**The Battle for Hogsmeade**_

_Yesterday, open warfare broke out between the __Ministry forces and the minions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Twenty Aurors from the Ministry forces, augmented by a number of Members from the mysterious Order of the Phoenix were pitted against an unknown number of Death Eaters in a pitched battle that moved all over the streets and byways, roofs and cellars of the usually sleepy village. Our reporter at the scene said he personally saw three Death Eaters blown to pieces and two Aurors badly injured._

_A broken sewer was the only thing that stopped the streets of Hogsmeade being flooded with pupils from the nearby Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Spokesman for Hogwarts, well known personality Horace Slughorn, told our reporter that such a stroke of good fortune was a sign that the magical protections of Hogwarts looked after the pupils most carefully._

_A Death Eater tried to cast Mors Mordre but was foiled by the intrepid interception of Auror Hestia Jones who was immediately the target of a terrible __Flesh Devouring hex. The semi-sentient demon-based hex has not been seen since the time of Grindelwald. The only person who was able to partially remove the hex was unseen by our reporter but we were told he was a valued member of the Order Of the Phoenix. Unfortunately he was only partially successful and Madame Jones now lies at death's door in St Mungo's security wing._

_Spoke__sperson for the Ministry, Under-Minister Percy Weasley, said in a prepared statement that no villager lost their life and that the Aurors had the situation well in hand. There was no need to panic and that this attack did not herald the beginning of all out warfare between Light and Dark. Under-Minister Weasley insisted that citizens would be perfectly safe as long as they followed the Ministry guidelines for Home Safety. When asked to comment on the continued proliferation of spurious protection charms and potions, he said, "No Comment!" and left the interview._

_The captured Death Eaters were immediately shipped out to Azkaban on order of the __Minister._

_In the aftermath of the battle, the following statistics were gathered._

_Dead: Death Eaters 5, Aurors 2, Order members 1._

_Badly injured: Death Eaters 2, Aurors 5, Order members 0._

_Captured: Death Eaters 3._

_Missing: Aurors 1_

oo0oo

Remus and Tonks floo-ed into Grimmauld Place and stumbled out of the fireplace, only to be grabbed and hugged so hard, Remus thought his ribs would crack.

"Fucking Hell, Remy, I was worried sick! Where the hell were you?" Severus bellowed furiously, attempting to shake the smaller man, but failing abysmally.

"Not very elegantly stated but succinct, you must admit," Draco drawled, eyeing the werewolf and the Auror while Hermione hurried over and wrapped a supportive arm around Tonks' slumped shoulders.

"We won, but at a price," Tonks muttered even as she let the younger girl lead her into the kitchen and seat her at the scrubbed wood table. "Dung is dead and Hestia may die yet. That fool Dawlish…. Gods, if I could get my hands around his damned throat for that trick he pulled! Remus nearly had her clear but then he came in swinging his prejudice like the narrow-minded fool he is and…. Poor Hestia!"

Draco was very surprised when Severus wrapped both arms around Remus and laid his cheek on the top of the werewolf's head. "You're shaking Remy, did the Dark Lord Cruciatus you, too?"

"No, Sev, I'm just tired and upset," Remus assured him heavily. "It is late, people, I think we should all eat something quick and easy, then get some sleep. You two should have been back at Hogwarts hours ago. Minerva will have my head for keeping you out so long."

"You could always put her in a sack and drown her," Severus said matter-of-factly. "Well, it always crosses my mind when she is being insufferably catty."

Remus simply shook his head while Draco laughed and Hermione looked indignant. Still, the deadpan delivery served to lighten the mood and helped the weary soldiers to come to terms with the day they had served.

oo0oo

Moody stared out over the classroom, the earnest year seven students staring back as the silence stretched uncomfortably. For a few moments he wondered if he should just tell them all to bugger off but then he sighed and turned to the board, scribing the lesson title in large letters. There was a rustle of parchment as the students found their places in the text book and began to read the directions. The silence grew longer and more strained, until finally he tossed down the chalk and swore fluently. The class looked up startled as he turned on one heel and glared at them all.

"As you are very well aware, there was a major battle in Hogsmeade on Saturday, one where a number of people were killed, and others seriously injured," he began leaning against the desk. "Hestia Jones - Professor Jones to you lot - was very seriously injured and is now in a deep coma in St Mungo's. If she does survive, it is unlikely that she will ever walk again, although she may have some small use of her arms, if she is lucky."

Speculation rose, people whispering to each other when he paused for breath.

"Shut up! I'm not telling you this to give you a cheap thrill or to engage your sympathies. I'm telling you the facts in an effort to impress upon you the seriousness of these lessons. You all come into with absolutely no concept of how serious they are. Defence Against the Dark Arts - DADA you say as you smirk, mouthing it like baby-talk and glance over the textbook - just another set of memorised pages and learned-by-rote spells. If you meet a boggart you just say _Riddikulus _and it obediently trots off and leaves you alone. Isn't that what you think?" his voice was as deadly quiet as an assassin's blade, rasping against their nerves before he snapped his head up and snarled. "Well they don't! And nor does a Dark opponent hang around and wait for you to page through your mental textbook to find just the right spell before they try to turn you inside out!" His wand flashed and a blanket spell whipped out over them.

Harry cast _Protego_ without thought or conscious action, his _Expelliarmus_ was sent wordlessly and instantly with no hesitation whatsoever. Moody had his own barriers up in an instant as a blinder spell came from Ron, a binder spell from both Hermione and Luna, and a hacking hex from Longbottom, of all people. Malfoy ducked under the desk, a low flying _Confundus_ trying to slip under the instructor's shield even as he moved from cover to cover. The rest of the seventh year class were afflicted with stinging wasps which made them lose concentration and swat out frantically.

The _Expelliarmus_ did little to distract the ex-Auror but it was enough to allow the other four hexes a chance to succeed before Harry sent _Sempora Exanguine_ heading toward the man's head with enough force to blast his shields apart. Moody let out a yelp as his eyes and ears began to bleed, his tattered shield falling in disarray.

"_Finite Incantatem_!" Hermione yelped, cancelling everyone's spells as their teacher fell to his knees, holding his head carefully. "Oh my goodness, are you alright, Sir?" she squeaked as the rest of the class gaped at the damage their fellows had wrought.

A rusty wheezing noise came from the old man as he struggled to his feet and used a cleaning spell to wipe away the blood and gore from his face and robes. "Miss Granger, I have just found a small light of hope in a field of despair and yes, I am very well!" he said with manic cheerfulness, his wheezy laughter continuing as he stumped back to the blackboard. "So, perhaps some of you are worth keeping alive after all, perhaps some of you may even survive. Good. Harry! Why use the _Expelliarmus_ first?"

Harry blinked uneasily. "It might have worked, and it left you vulnerable to the others' spells."

"You're a fool! Hit hard, hit first and keep on hitting until your opponent stops moving. Draco, why duck and cover?"

"Present the smallest target to your opponent, fire off a spell, then move to a new cover so that targeting spells won't find you."

"And if there is no cover handy?"

"There are always expendables, or fallen, or something to use as cover."

"Bloody Slytherin," Ron muttered angrily, glaring at the blond.

"Yes, Mr Weasley, you have a point to make?" Moody pinpointed the redhead with his magical eye.

Ron glared, then burst out. "Some of us have friends, not minions, and we don't hide behind our friends like cowardly Slytherins."

There was a low growl as Crabbe and Goyle began to rise, only to be pinned back in their seats by Moody's spell. "You have a point, Mr Goyle, Mr Crabbe?" he asked.

Vincent Crabbe ruminated for a few seconds, then spoke out quietly. "Always protect the stronger wizard so he can do the job that needs to be done, even if your protection is just to intercept in-coming hexes."

"Even if it kills you?" Moody pressed quietly, a slow smile breaking out as the large youth nodded slowly. "Interesting philosophy, protect the ranking wizard so he can accomplish the mission, even to the cost of your own life. And you, Mr Weasley, would you protect a ranking wizard to the death?"

Ron opened his mouth to say 'no' then closed it again as his brow knit thoughtfully. "I don't know about ranking wizards, I can't think of anyone who is higher ranked but I would protect my friends, to the death if necessary."

Moody nodded, a sly smile curving his lips. "So, the topic sentence is, 'friend or minion, is there really a difference when you go into battle for a philosophy you believe in?' Write me a fifteen-inch scroll, giving both the pros and the cons of that sentence for next week."

It was a thoughtful group of seniors who left the DADA classroom.

oo0oo

The Room of Requirement was an obstacle course of pillars and platforms, mock house fronts and gardens. The group filtered in and gaped around curiously as more and more of the Aurors-in-training class assembled. They all froze when Draco Malfoy swept in, Crabbe hard on his heels but both Pansy and Goyle were missing. Both Slytherins glanced around arrogantly before Moody clapped his hands and assembled them in the cleared space that mimicked Hogsmeade village square.

"Well, this is cosy," Moody muttered, glancing around at the mixed batch of sixth and seventh years that made up the DA. He had not expected Malfoy or Crabbe but the others seemed resigned to their presence. Harry had positioned himself between Ron and the two Slytherins, Hermione taking up position on the left side of the volatile redhead. "Today we are going to practice our silent spell casting. The first person who yells a spell aloud is going to get a broken leg, do we understand each other?"

"Er, Sir, how are we to be split up?" Ernie McMillan asked nervously.

"Humm, let me see. We'll keep the trio intact, I think and put Longbottom, Luna, Crabbe and Malfoy on the same team, they can defend against the rest of you."

"But sir, is that fair, there are twenty of them and only seven of us," Ron complained. "And we have the enemy, too!"

"Oh, forgive me, Mr Weasley, but where does it say I have to play fair? Where does it say that the opposition has to play by the Code of Wizard's Duelling? Life is just full of not fair, if you look about you," Moody mocked as he drew his wand. "You have ten minutes to plot a strategy, then you are on your own."

"Don't cry, Weasel, Granger will protect you from the big bad Death Eaters," Malfoy taunted as they moved to the far end of the hall.

"So you admit it, do you?" Ron snarled, his fists automatically rising as Malfoy sneered at him, his arms crossed over his chest, his wand gripped negligently in one hand.

"I admit that you are a fool, certainly," Draco said in mocking tones as Weasley's face turned brick red in sheer anger, his wand coming up to attack position almost automatically. "Oh, look at that, a new wand; I wonder where your father begged that one from?"

Even Crabbe looked startled as Ron lunged and grabbed Malfoy's robes, lifting him until only the tips of his toes touched the ground. Before Crabbe could move or Harry even try to separate them, Hermione came out of nowhere, fury making her hair swirl around her head, raw magic coalescing out of thin air.

"Right, I have _had it_ with you two! Both of you are behaving like silly little girls in nursery school! If you cannot cooperate, then I am going have to take _steps_!"

"He started it," the both whined in unison and Hermione half screamed in frustrated fury. There was a flash of harsh-coloured light that blinded them all for an instant. Harry didn't think; he threw himself at Crabbe in an attempt to get him out of the line of fire, only to have the much bigger boy catch him and turn his back to the explosion, protecting Harry with his bulk. Neville pulled Luna aside and wrapped her in a hug that made her giggle and immediately return it, even as she cast _Protego_ over them both.

Hermione's squeak of dismay brought them all back to the problem at hand but the two fighting youths were no more. Instead there was a white blonde and a fiery red-haired little girl standing in a pool of robes, holding wands and looking around in bewildered surprise. Taking a deep breath, Harry struggled free of Crabbe's hold and plucked the wands out of the little kids' hands before turning wide eyes on Hermione who was staring at her handiwork in horror.

"That was impressive," Harry said in measured tones as Moody hurried over at a limping run.

"What's going on here?" the Professor demanded, taking in the sight with a growing sense of astonishment and sheer amazement. "You do this, Hermione?"

"I-I, I think I did," she gasped as the two little girls blinked at her in amazement.

"This isn't funny, Hermione," the redhead said while the blonde tapped an impatient foot.

"Well now, gather around people and have a look at this. This is what happens when a witch, or wizard, is driven to the edge of temper and they lose control of their magic. Harry, I believe you have had this happen to you before, yes?" Moody questioned but didn't pause for a reply. "When you lose your temper, magic happens in an uncontrolled way. It's usually a lot more powerful than the daily magic you do and the effects are not really controlled most of the time. What I want you all to do is think about losing your temper and how you are feeling at the time. Try to recreate that feeling, bring up the wild magic but DON'T LOSE IT; harness it, harness the power and use it in a controlled and thoughtful manner. If you can ever master this skill, then you will be unbeatable, I do promise you." Moody looked around the circle of youth and nodded decisively. "In the meantime, plan your strategy and, Hermione, see if you can get them back to normal. If not, I assume it will wear off in a few hours." He chortled at the look of horror on the two little faces, so like and yet unlike the two young men the girls really were.

"And if it doesn't," Hermione asked aghast.

"Then I suggest you ask Headmistress McGonagall to transfigure them back later."

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" Hermione said in abject apology as the two little girls stared at her.

"Give me some fudge and I'll forgive you," Malfoy said with a calculating air.

"Hah! You are going to get fat, Malfoy! Malfoy is a big pig! Malfoy is a big pig!" Ron began to tease, then stopped in shock when Crabbe simply picked him up and leaned him on his hip. "Put me down! What do you think you are doing?" There was a struggle but Grabbe's sheer bulk smothered Ron's attempts to escape with the minimum of effort. In seconds, Weasley gave it up as a bad joke, stuck out his lip and sulked with no real effect.

Hermione smiled and picked up Malfoy as Harry chuckled and pointed to a small house at the far side of the space. "Let's get 'the girls' in there and plan some sort of strategy that isn't going to get our arses blown off. After all, we are down two soldiers."

oo0oo

The exercise was hell but at the end they had managed not to get killed and to protect the two non-combatants. Both Ron and Draco had spent most of their time as little girls playing with the coloured inks and paper Luna had conjured for them - playing amicably, much to the surprise of the rest of the 'team'. As the spell wore off and the two slowly returned to normal, neither rekindled the open warfare there had been between them, learning to tolerate each other reasonably well. It was a fragile peace but it was a beginning. Hermione let out a silent but heartfelt sigh of relief. Maybe there was a chance of a future with Draco after all? If her friends didn't hate him, then perhaps they would understand when the whole thing came out.


	17. Required, More Time

**Chapter 16** – _Required, More Time_

Harry and Ron sprawled on the sofa before the fire in the common room, looking like bookends. "Today was really good, lots of action, and we did learn a fair bit about the art of concealment and silent hex slinging," Harry mused as he studied his mate. "You know you looked just like Ginny when you were a little kid."

Ron glared, then grinned crookedly. "Hermione sure was mad at us. I bet Malfoy never thought a Muggleborn could be that powerful."

"No, and I couldn't believe Crabbe. I hit him hard with the intention of knocking him out of the line of fire, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He didn't even stagger, but he did use himself like a human shield to protect me. You know, Ron, I don't think Crabbe is a Death Eater-in-training at all."

"So what do you think he is then," Ron scoffed, reaching out to poke up the fire.

Harry paused thoughtfully. "I think he is a Malfoy Junior groupie, completely, body and soul. He treats Malfoy like his personal lord and master and seems to have appointed himself as Malfoy's bodyguard. If Malfoy is our friend then so is Crabbe, but if Malfoy turns away, then Crabbe will turn, too."

"You think Malfoy has him under Imperius?" Ron asked, sitting up straight.

"No, you idiot! I think Crabbe is Malfoy's friend and follower, nothing more or less than that."

"The junior Death Eater's junior Death Eater?" Ron questioned incredulously, then giggled. "Yes, I think you're right. So what does that make Malfoy?"

"Useful," Harry said decisively. "He knows stuff we don't, stuff he learned from his father, which is the stuff we need to learn how to defend ourselves against. We are running out of time for our training and if we ever hope to be anything like effective, we need to get more time to train as Aurors, learn everything Malfoy can teach us and still fit our bleeding NEWTs in there somewhere."

"Pity we couldn't get a great big time-turner and conjure up a spare year or two from somewhere," Ron joked cheerfully, then shook his head when a certain enthusiastic light entered Harry's bright green eyes. "No, mate, a time-turner of that size has never been invented or made, it would be too hard."

"Probably, but I think I have a glimmer of an idea. Let me think about it, and I'll tell you later." Harry grinned at Ron's disgruntled expression but wouldn't be moved or coaxed into giving any more of his thoughts away.

oo0oo

"No, no, no, no, no! No! I don't care what that fuckwit Meriwether says, you DO NOT BOIL, you simmer!" A long hand made a gesture, and the fire died to a low burn under the cauldron set up in the cellars of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Eeek! Don't do that to me! You scared me half to death, you stinker!" Tonks screeched, her hair going electric city and her face flicking through half a dozen configurations which made the Potions Master giggle like a drain before settling into lines of total disgust. "Besides, you were too busy off in la-la land to do your bloody job for the past week, and we need these analgesics, so it just can't wait!" she needled in the face of his laughter.

Severus almost flinched at the anger in the woman and her odd flickering looks, then straightened and peered down his nose. He wasn't sure when he got so tall, but it did make peering down his nose interesting. It made his eyes cross too as he looked at his own nose, and Tonks couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing, momentary anger forgotten. Snape the younger was a hoot when he got going, a mixture of haughty Pureblood and radically left-field teenager with a wickedly sarcastic sense of humour and a formidable intelligence.

He glanced at her, offended. "Where are you up to? Why are you making this crap? If you need heavy-duty drugs, you should try the _indolentia maxis_ potion. Takes a bit of side stepping but its worth it, if you're any good, that is," he added with a touch of arrogance that made Tonks curl a lip at him.

"Listen, Hot Stuff, we aren't all potions nerds you know, some of us do other things in our spare time, like get a life!"

Severus looked puzzled for a moment or two as if having a hard time comprehending a life that didn't include potions and then he stuck out his tongue rudely. "And some of us know what is important in our lives."

"Oh, bugger off, Snape! Brew your messes!" Tonks laughed, bowing him forward to her place by the bench. She watched in fascination as the man picked up a wicked-looking knife and began to slice a shrivelfig with all the skill of a, well, a Potions Master, wafer-thin slices falling like petals from the blade. It was amazing how some skills had been retained even with the terrible brain injury he had suffered. With a deft flick of his blade, he sent half the slices fluttering over the simmering brew in a perfect flower shape, the other half stayed exactly on the board without a twitch. Amazing!

oo0oo

Roger looked down the length of the table to where Remus and Severus were leaning over what looked like a textbook. "Severus seems happy, as happy as he has ever been," he remarked softly to Molly and Arthur who were sitting on his left.

"He is. He seems to be growing up all over again, and he's rather less abrasive than he usually is. Remus is a good guardian to him, patient and good-natured even when Severus is a little snarky. Severus and Tonks have been trading insults and potions recipes for the last two days, some of them quite creative. The only real problem we have is the music. I blame Remus of course, he insists on playing those wretched Muggle black pancakes of his, but when he and Tonks and Severus decide to sing along…! I mean, 'Just another Brick in the Wall' can have some serious implications when two teachers are singing it. And Severus seems to take a great deal of pleasure in bellowing out the line 'Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone!' I wouldn't mind so much if any of them could hit a note, but please! All I can say is none of them better give up their day jobs."

Roger's eyes fairly twinkled at Molly's disgusted expression but he chose not to comment.

Arthur turned to the other man after studying the group interacting and asked, "Does he remember what happened to him yet? Can you get around his blocks?"

"No. No, not yet," Roger replied. "But I think that - when he feels safe enough - the walls will come down and he may be fully functional again. I live in hopes that he will be fully well."

A burst of laughter drew their attention as Severus bumped shoulders with Remus, making the werewolf shake his head ruefully. Molly caught the fleeting expression that lit the man's face and sighed deeply. "It's Remus I worry about. He is such a lonely, ostracised, badly treated man who deserves better, and Severus has given him unconditional love during the past couple of weeks. What happens when Severus becomes himself again? Will he still be sweet or will he be his usual sour self? Will he still treat Remus as the most important person in the world? Or will he forget?"

"I don't know, Molly, I just don't know but I hope they will still be with each other, for both their sakes." Arthur sighed. "There was never enough love in Severus' life before he fell under Remus' care, and he has blossomed since. If only there had been someone else besides a Malfoy in his life when he really was seventeen years old and needed someone's unconditional love to save him."

The three older members watched as Tonks came dashing in, high-fived Severus and scrubbed Remus' hair before falling over a chair and landing on the bench. Fate was such a fickle old biddy, wasn't she?

oo0oo

Harry flew above the Quidditch pitch, twisting and turning, ducking and weaving as the bludger flew at his head from all angles. He held a beater's bat and whacked at the solid ball again and again, flying like a maniac, loving every minute of it! This was not flying at its finest but it came damned close. He climbed hard and did a classic Immelmann manoeuvre, even though he didn't realise it, coming up underneath the bludger and whacking it away again. He gasped as it shot back at a ferocious speed, twisting and diving, his arm coming round in a slash to bat the ball as far away as the half connecting hit could send it.

There was a flash of white, a laugh on the wind and Harry suddenly realised he had company in the air. He twisted and belted the ball back, making the opponent duck and weave even as the bludger turned and flew back on its course. Laughing now, the two mad flyers whacked the bludger back and forward, flowing though the air as only skilled and dedicated flyers could until, by mutual consent, they whacked the bludger down and wrestled it into its box.

"That was fun!" Malfoy declared as they both mounted their brooms again and shot skyward, looping around each other in a complicated corkscrew manoeuvre. Although neither of them would admit it, their flying skills were on a par and they followed the patterns they each initiated almost as if they shared one body and one mind, both laughing and panting as they landed on top of the North Tower in unison,

"That was fun!" Harry confirmed with a gasp as they both sank down, side by side, knees drawing up to chins. "We're good, Draco, better than anyone else here."

"I know - sad, isn't it? If either of us had come here in a different time scale, we would have been the shining star but both together, we are dubbed enemies to the death," Draco mused softly. "I don't particularly want to be your enemy, Harry. I never did, you know?"

They both contemplated the bright stars that seemed so near they could almost touch them. "I don't want to be your personal enemy either, Draco, but I hate the mindset that condemns good and powerful people to death because they are not born into wizarding families."

Draco snorted. "Do you think I like it?" he asked harshly, still studying the sky. "That monster is evil incarnate, and I have been branded as one of his own, against my will and because I read a situation incorrectly. Now I am stuck with a stupid choice and I hate it. All I can do is hopefully feed your lot with crumbs of information and pray that it is enough to save my soul. Merlin, Harry, the stupid mistakes we make…!" He snuffled for a moment then drew a deep cleansing breath, pushing all the built-up emotion behind his perfect Malfoy facade once again. "We're running out of time, Harry; _you_ are running out of time. He will rise up and try to destroy you as soon as he is able. You have to grow stronger, and you have to have more knowledge before you can defeat him. You need someone like Professor Dumbledore at your side, and you need to be as strong as is possible, or he will win; Longbottom is a poor substitute for the Chosen One."

"You know about that, then?" Harry questioned softly.

"That it had to be one of three boys; you, Longbottom or a kid the Dark Lord killed years ago, with me as an outside chance, yes. I am a coward, I will admit it to you and no other. I don't like pain and I can't stand torture, it makes me sick to my stomach. Neville is not the stuff of heroes, not in the conventional sense. He will stand by his friends and he will perform brilliantly, but he is not the Chosen One. So that leaves you, Harry Potter, hope of the Light and Saviour of wizarding kind, just you - and I do not envy you the task - but man, we need more time! More time to train, more time to grow up, more time to live without wondering if tomorrow will be our last day on earth, don't you think?"

Harry studied the blond next to him, wondering at the tear rolling unheeded down his porcelain white cheek. Moonlight bleached the colour from the other boy's skin, making him look almost ethereal in the light of the half moon.

"Time," Harry repeated almost sadly. "How do you get time? Ron suggested a time turner but then said it wouldn't work."

"Weasley's right, it wouldn't. It would take more energy than any one person could put out to make the jump," Draco confirmed absently. "Still, even a stolen hour is better than no time at all, isn't it?"

"A stolen hour? One stolen hour! Bloody Hell, Malfoy, that's it! A stolen hour! If we can steal an hour, why not a week or a month or even a year! We can do that, I'm sure I can convince it to do that for us! Draco, you are brilliant!" Harry whooped aloud, threw himself onto his broom and launched out in a delirium of excitement, making Draco shake his head before he too launched out and followed Harry's erratic spiral to the ground.

oo0oo

Harry paced the stone corridor, deep in thought, planning what he needed and trying to take every little detail into consideration. He found that, by doing a lot of preliminary thinking and planning, he could get the Room of Requirement to cooperate more fully. He had called a meeting of the DA almost out of the blue to start at nine o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, which was unprecedented. After the death of the Headmaster, most people had lost heart and the few meetings they'd held had not been very successful. For people to keep a keen and sharp interest, there had to be a present and confrontable enemy; the dismissal of Umbridge had removed that impetus. Harry snorted wryly. While Voldemort was the greatest threat to wizarding kind since the fall of Grindelwald, he was a vague and distant figure to most people, unless his Death Eaters visited the family of a student. Then he came into real and sharp focus!

Today, the general DA meeting was merely a cover for the following meeting which he hoped very sincerely was going to solve the problem of having enough time for Auror training. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement and strode in boldly. It didn't look too different from any other times the DA had met, except for the addition of a door in the far wall. Pushing through that door, Harry almost whooped in triumph. There was another set of corridors leading to bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens and study areas. Books lined the shelves of the small library and a cosy common room occupied a good bit of the foyer area.

"Thank you, Hogwarts, magnificent as usual," Harry spoke aloud and patted the stones of the wall fondly. He imagined that the castle purred under his hand but knew that was not really possible as he heard the first of the new arrivals in the outer hall.

Most of the older members of the DA had graduated and not many people had joined from the younger years, so there were only ten people assembled in the hall. All of them spent most of their time gossiping about the good old days and telling stories of Dolores Umbridge and the black days of fifth year. Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled grimly, remembering their own battles and triumphs of that year, also their own losses and disasters.

After wasting half an hour, Harry called them all to order and put the members through their paces, refreshing their memories of the hexes, charms and transfigurations they had all worked so hard to perfect. He then told the younger ones that they had to start learning to do the same spells without the vocal accompaniment which caused quite a few protests as well as a few eyes to light up at the challenge. New enthusiasm bubbled through the members as they spent a fruitful half hour practising and often failing to work the familiar spells without words.

"Oh well!" Ginny grinned as she plunked herself down beside Harry and rubbed her head on his shoulder. "At least you have managed to get them fired up again. I thought the DA might have died in the flames of Dumbledore's passing."

Harry smiled down at his redheaded girlfriend then stiffened as something tickled the back of his mind. "Say that again?" he insisted.

"Say what? The club died with Dumbledore? Well it did, sort of; it's hard to be an army dedicated to a dead man."

"No, no, no! You said it 'died in the flames of Dumbledore's passing'. What did you mean by that?"

Ginny, Ron and Luna exchanged surprised glances, but it was Neville who answered the question. "When a wizard dies, if he dies a magical death - or even one from old age, these days – as a precaution against burying him too soon, his family create a funereal brazier for him. Some are simple affairs, same spell as a basic cauldron, but some are quite magnificent -- bronze, gold, platinum, silver, alabaster, jade, marble, granite, you name it. It has to be made quickly because it has to be lit within twenty-four hours of the wizard's passing or else, the ritual says, the wizard's spirit will have wandered too far away to be called back to the body, if it is just a hex in operation. Once it is lit, the fire is kept alight for at least until the funeral service finishes - or if the person was important, for a week after that. Once it is finished with, the brazier is put into the tomb or incorporated into the headstone so that once a year, usually on the day of their death, someone can light a small memorial fire for the wizard's soul."

"Wow, you know a lot about it, don't you?" Luna commented with wide-eyed astonishment. "How did you know all that?"

Neville blushed and ducked his head. "My Gran made me learn it so I couldn't muck it up on her," he mumbled, making Ron snort and Hermione hiss angrily.

"You wouldn't muck it up anyway," Harry said off-handedly. "You never muck up the important stuff, just the incidentals."

For a second Neville gaped open-mouthed, then flushed and smiled shyly when he realised exactly what Harry had said. "Thanks, mate," he muttered as Luna gave him a thistle she had conjured.

"So, here we have the Department of Mysteries Survivors club discussing funeral arrangements in the Room of Requirement. Is this a significant topic?" Ron asked, scratching his nose meditatively.

Harry chuckled at his friend's cock-eyed look. "No, you prat, I expect the rest of the Trainee Auror's group will be here in a moment or two. And here comes the rest of them…. Hi, people, what time is it?"

"Time? Nine thirty, of course, isn't that the time we were supposed to meet?" Dean asked impatiently as Seamus shouldered him out of the way to make room for the rest of the class to enter. "And why did we have to bring enough stuff to last a week?" Both boys dropped duffle bags on the floor as they sank into a tailor seat, knees touching. While both had been part of the original DA, Harry's message had separated certain people from those who were designated test guinea pigs and given different instructions.

"You'll see," Harry said mysteriously while the rest of the group exchanged puzzled looks. How could it be nine thirty when they had been in for an hour and a half, and had arrived at nine? Before questions could be asked, Moody swept in followed by Malfoy and Crabbe. They exchanged quite civil nods with Ginny as she slipped out to act as the control person on the outside of the room. Being the youngest of the remaining DA members, Harry was a little reluctant to allow her to join the Auror class, her brother even more so. On the other hand, because she was so close to Harry, she was bound to be a target. If Voldemort got his hands on her it would be a disaster for Harry as well as her family!

The ex-Auror looked around at the group judging their readiness and then glared at Malfoy who was casually buffing his nails while leaning on the wall. His wand flicked but Malfoy was moving, his own wand out and cast _Protego_ over himself. Moody chuckled when he saw most of the rest of the trainees also had their wands out and were shielded rather effectively. It was always good to keep them stirred up and set on a hair trigger. "Right, let's get down to it! Mister Potter, we all received a very cryptic little note from you to the effect that we should all pack for a week. Care to elaborate?"

Harry flushed and scrubbed at his scalp before glancing up. "Okay, as you all know, this room really likes me. So, I asked it nicely to set itself up for a week to be passed in an hour…."

"Impossible!" Moody burst out the rest of the class raising eyebrows and muttering.

"Not necessarily," Hermione said consideringly. "Harry is a powerful wizard and the school really does like him. Besides, we have already been here an hour and a half, and yet you tell us that it is only nine thirty. We started at nine."

"If I did it right," Harry began, then raised his voice over the growing swell of noise. "IF I DID IT RIGHT. In three hour's time we can step outside and see how much time has passed, just to check that is it going right. Until then, I suggest, Sir, that you do not waste it."

Alastor used his magical eye to check the sincerity of his class, then nodded and ordered them to listen up. If he was to be granted a few extra hours out of time, who was he to waste it?

oo0oo

"Remus? Remus, please wake up. Please, Remus."

The soft, shaking voice penetrated the deep sleep, dragging Remus to consciousness. "Sev? What's wrong? You're trembling!" He pushed himself up in the bed and put a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Here, get in, you're freezing."

Severus slid in beside Remus and wrapped very long arms and legs around the slighter man. "I had a dream, a horrible, horrible dream," he sniffed, rubbing his cheek against Remus' chest. "There was a snake with red eyes and he kept turning into my grandmother and he kept hurting me, daring me to crack up and cry, but grandmother made sure that wouldn't happen. I built a wall and locked him out, but then I lost the key and got locked up inside my own mind." There was bitterness in his tone for the first time since his torturing.

"Hush now, he can't hurt you here. That was Voldemort, Severus, the Dark Lord who is trying to destroy our kind. Hush, it's okay, I have you."

"What happened to me, Remus? I know… I'm not like this really, am I? I… sometimes the others _look_ at me, like I have two heads or like I will destroy them with a glare."

Considering his words carefully, Remus lay back and tightened his arms around the frail frame huddled into his side. "You are really a brilliant _Legilimens,_ and you use that power to help win the war. The other side of the coin is _Occlumency_, the ability to hide your inner thoughts and feelings from everyone. Unfortunately, you were driven to the point of death, and all you could do to preserve your 'self' was to hide within the Occlumency. Yes, built a wall around yourself and locked everyone out. Your dream about losing the key is not far wrong, you recovered physically, but you locked your mind away and have been living here as a child for the past two and a half weeks. You've been my beautiful, sweet, intelligent, loving child, but you haven't been yourself." Remus couldn't resist dropping a kiss on the sleek black head as Severus' fingers sketched an idle pattern in his chest hair.

"What am I like really, Remus?" he asked softly.

Remus sighed, stroking the thick black hair back off his brow and smiling ruefully. "Hard. You are hard and stern, sarcastic and biting, but you have more honour in your little finger than most people have in their whole lives. You are incredibly brave and strong, both in will and in character. Even as a schoolboy, you were very intelligent - and as curious as a cat when it came to research. You're brilliant, one of the youngest Potions Masters ever. You worked at Hogwarts School, teaching Potions, but you are also a spy for the Light."

"A what? What do you mean?"

"Calm down, Sev, it's alright. Look at your left arm, love, yes, the tattoo. It's called the Dark Mark, the _Mors Mordre_…"

"Yeah, that's what Roger said, from a very bad man. How come I have it, am I a bad man, too?"

"No, you aren't bad, not at all, quite the opposite! Hush now, I'll tell you. The self-styled Lord Voldemort gives it to his loyal followers who are called Death Eaters. No, no, wait now; hear me out. When you were at school and just after you left, you fell in with a bad crowd. Something happened to you at your home so you made a decision and joined them. I feel partially responsible for that, me and Sirius, James and Lily, probably Peter, too," Remus confessed sadly as Severus sat up to stare down at him. "We were cruel to you, Severus, bitterly cruel and evil."

"You would never be cruel, Remus," Severus declared with utter conviction, reaching up and dropping a soft kiss on his lips.

Pulling back, Remus held him off worriedly. "Oh, Sev, you don't know what you are doing."

Severus smiled, his eyelids drifting to half closed. "Yes I do, Remy. I know what I am doing, and I know what I want to do. I … I assume you want it, too? I often see you watching me when you think I won't notice. I wondered what it meant until Tonks explained it to me, and then I just knew it was what I wanted. I think I have done this before, it sort of feels like I know what I am doing. Do you mind?"

Remus laughed and dropped a kiss on his forehead before tipping up his chin and kissing him deeply. "God, Sev, more than anything in this world I want you and no, I don't mind at all."

The reply came in kisses and touches rather than words, each drawing the other into the spell of passion that had been building between them for two weeks, if not years. History forgotten, present relegated to outside the room, they moved together, hands exploring, mouths tasting, bodies speaking to minds.

"I love you, Remus Lupin."

"I love you, Severus Snape."

The words came simultaneously as they twined, smooth, hairless skin gently abraded by a thick haired pelt. Warm lips found small hard nipples, long fingers stroked scarred hard abs, long legs wrapped around muscled buttocks, and both rose to climax in a spiral that exploded them both.

As they drifted down to sleep, Remus clung tightly to the thin man who had come to mean more to him than any other living person in his life, refusing to allow guilt to spoil the moment. "I love you," he whispered softly.

As they drifted down to sleep, Remus clung tightly to the thin man who had come to mean more to him than any other living person in his life. "I love you," he whispered softly.


	18. Training in Earnest

**Chapter 17** – _Training in Earnest_

For three hours Alastor had the group studying a single spell they had all learned in the classroom, a Jelly-Legs Jinx. He made them learn to use it without vocalisation, then had them take it apart and see why it worked, learning it in all its intricacies, thinking up variants and testing them on each other. It was an exercise Aurors did all the time, designed to increase ingenuity, exercise and build on magical skills, and subtly strengthen the magical field in each trainee. Usually trainees got a little bored after three hours, but this lot were lapping it up, yelling suggestions across the gymnasium, swapping partners at will and running off to grab books whenever the need arose or the fancy took them. Alastor allowed them to take it as far and as wide as they could as he was interested to see how they stacked up against a 'real' class of Auror trainees. And he was growing more and more surprised by the end of the lesson. He'd particularly chosen a simple hex because, technically, this was a class of school children, but what they changed that simple hex into was far more sophisticated than even a class of third-year Aurors had managed to come up with in all his experience. A body's legs were now the very least thing that would turn to jelly if they were hit with the newly modified and 'souped-up' version of the old favourite.

Somehow, during their years at school, they had also learned a skill very few people ever really mastered, particularly the trio and the two boys, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. They could double or triple the power of a spell by hooking elbows and joining their personal magical fields to enhance their magic, using the extra power to give more 'punch' to a hex or a jinx. It was fascinating to watch the boys use the skill without really thinking about it, simply doing what came naturally. Both Lovegood and Longbottom mastered the new skill within minutes of the technique being proposed to them and tried out tentatively at first then with growing confidence as they saw the results they were able to achieve after only half an hour of practising. Oddly enough, Finch-Fletchly and Emily Dickens caught on almost as fast as the other two couples, and then Moody realised the boys were indeed a couple when he caught the look that passed between Dean and Seamus when they thought no one was looking. Interesting!

Finally, at midday by the clock, he called a halt to the proceedings, and Harry told everyone to go through the far door for lunch. As the group streamed out, exclamations of amazement and pleasure floated back. Following his class, Alastor was astounded to see what had been a simple gymnasium was now a fully equipped dining room complete with a long refectory table, padded separate chairs and a sideboard sporting steaming bain-maries. The smells rising on the fragrant steam was of beef stew, baked potatoes and steamed vegetables. High-topped loaves of golden bread and churn stamped pats of butter were already distributed along the table's length with knives on the boards ready to cut the loaves. It was obvious that the house-elves were taking very good care of the special group!

Harry hurried over and grinned at Alastor who was standing in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. "So, crunch time. You agree we have been here since nine thirty and it is now twelve thirty? Good. So, pop out of the door and find a clock you trust but don't take too long, the room doesn't stop the spell just because the teacher steps out."

"We'll see," Alastor temporised and stumped over to the far door, tossing it open with a 'humph' of indignation. The corridor looked just the same as ever so he stepped out and looked both ways. As soon as he was clear of the doorway, a portrait caught his eye, the woman jerking in astonishment. "What?" Alastor demanded testily as he limped over to stare at her.

"Oh, I just didn't see you there for a moment," the lady replied with a flirty smile. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Not unless you know what time it is."

"There's a clock in the great hall that says nine thirty but I don't know if it is correct or not."

Grunting, Alastor stormed off and laid hold of the third student he saw – refusing to speak to the first two in case Potter had planted them, or something - scaring the wits out of the Ravenclaw girl. "The time, Sir? Oh, it's about nine thirty or nine thirty five. Are you alright, Sir?" she asked, puzzled, when the professor let go of her arm and hurried back the way he had just come after staring at her with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

"Yes! Fine, fine, thank you," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner and was gone.

"He's been nipping the spirits again," her fellow Ravenclaw said knowingly, and both girls giggled as they hurried off.

oo0oo

The twenty-person strong class had spent the afternoon choosing beds, unpacking their few possessions and exploring their new surroundings. There were no formal dormitories just a collection of small rooms, and no one blinked as various people decided to share. No one was surprised when Luna and Neville chose a room at the end of the corridor, nor were they particularly surprised when Dean and Seamus also choose to room together. Malfoy and Crabbe chose to room together, and Hermione chose the room next to theirs most casually. No matter what the combinations, there were always enough rooms to go around, even when Harry and Ron each chose single rooms as did Lavender. At lunch Harry had explained that the Room of Requirement had slowed time inside the suite and they couldn't leave for a week because only an hour was going to pass in the outside world.

"If you are serious about becoming an Auror, this should not bother you, but if you are not, then I suggest you leave the programme and forget you ever knew of this Room's abilities. I hope to arrange with the Headmistress to spend the Christmas holidays here in the Room of Requirement, getting a whole year's training in two weeks…"

"What about our NEWTs?" Seamus asked, glancing at Dean before turning back to Harry.

Harry stared at his feet for a few long seconds then looked up, pinning each one of them to the spot with his impossibly green eyes. "What good are NEWTs if you are dead? You may survive the war, or you may not, but if we have managed to get some Auror training we will live that little bit longer; and if we are caught, we may make a difference so that someone else might survive. I know I won't live to see the new peace, that has never been in my cards, according to Trelawney; I just need to be strong enough to kill Voldemort before he kills me and fulfil my part of my destiny. After that, it's up to you lot to build the new world and make a better society for everyone. If you can survive long enough, then you can always take your NEWTs later, if they are that important to you."

"Nah, Harry, you misunderstood," Seamus said ruefully, shocked, shamed and humbled by the matter-of-fact confession Harry had just made. "We're supposed to have our NEWTs results before we are accepted into training, but we may come out of this the wrong way around, trained Aurors without NEWTs."

"So be it," Malfoy said surprisingly. "If we are bright enough and strong enough to pass Auror training, which I am assured is diabolically difficult, then our NEWTS should be a snap. Besides, if you already have your Auror Badge and then you do fail one NEWT, do you really think they are going to try and demote you on the strength of that? Look on this training as a NEWTs guarantee."

"He does have a point, you know," Emily said considering, then grinned. "I'm in. My academic record is not that good, and I will take any guarantees I can get my hands on, even if it means training with Mad Eye Moody in secret. I was going to stay for New Year anyway!"

There was a round of agreement before Neville put his hand up tentatively. "How're we going to explain how we got so old so quick? After all, we're going to be a whole year older in a week."

"Good point, Neville. We say nothing, as in 'the least said, soonest mended' school of secret keeping. Most of us are pretty much adult-sized and -shaped now…"

"Speak for yourself, Potter; I hope to get a little taller." Malfoy sniffed.

Ron laughed aloud at this pronouncement. Despite having two tall, elegantly aristocratic parents, Malfoy was distressingly short at barely five feet seven! Hermione, who only reached five feet three herself, simply elbowed Ron in the ribs hard and shook her head when he doubled up with a very theatrical whoof of expelled breath. "Size isn't everything, it's how you use it," she commented, ignoring the guffaws of laughter from around the crowd while staring at the ceiling innocently.

"As I was saying, we're all pretty much adults now, so if anyone comments on the changes we just say it must be the strain of the war effort. After all, it is a strain on most of the community so why should we be any different?" Harry grinned, when the others finished laughing delightedly. "So, look around the area the Room of Requirement has provided for us, but don't go out of the far door into the real world. Bone up on anything you want to or need to revise for school, read a few books you wouldn't usually tackle if this was a normal weekend and as soon as Mad-Eye has assured himself that I was telling him the truth and we are going to spend a week here in one hour out there, we'll get on with it."

"And how long do you think that will take him to make up his mind about the Room of Requirement?" someone called cheekily.

"Knowing Moody, it will probably be sometime after dinner by the time he gets back here. After all, he will be going a lot quicker out there than we are in here." Harry chuckled and rose from his place near the head of the table, taking his plate to the sink and dropping it in with a clatter. "Oh, that's something else we have to take care of; we have to clear our own dishes away, put them in the sink and wipe down the tables. The house-elves will bring food and clean up, but we have to clear the table, I have no idea why, it's just the way it is. That means you too, Malfoy," he added as the youth rose to leave, his plate still sitting on his placemat.

For a moment it looked as if Malfoy would refuse, then he shrugged and complied without fuss, putting his plate carefully on top of Harry's, his cutlery beside the china. Smiling faintly, Crabbe dropped his into the pile too and followed Malfoy out to the bedrooms on silent feet.

Moody did make it back just after dinner while the class was showering and getting ready to go to bed. Despite his sour expression and disgusted glare, he was amazed and astounded by Harry's control over the castle. Accepting a plate of food to make up for his missed lunch and, it seemed dinner too, he settled down to listen to what the young man had to say without arguing every step of the way. The old Auror narrowed his eyes at the concept of doing a year's training over the Christmas school holidays, but Harry could see he was already calculating and planning for the contingency. Even the subject of NEWTs merely made the old man snort in disgust, waving the consideration away as unimportant.

"Your plan is sound and I will put it to the current Head of Aurors, Gawain Robards. He's sympathetic to the Order and your cause. I'll also run it past Minerva, but I think we will have her support; after all, it was her idea to institute this course to help keep you students alive in the first place."

"Thank you, sir; we need this training more than we need to be politically correct or to finish our schooling."

Rising, Moody patted the young man's shoulder. "You'll have the chance," he promised over his shoulder as he left the dining room.

oo0oo

Alastor worked his class hard over the next week, putting them through a series of exercises designed to include every muscle in their bodies as well as every particle of magic they could access. Auror training was designed to weed out the unsuitable and hone the suitable into lean, mean fighting machines, or at least make them strong enough and determined enough not to fold at the first touch of a painful hex. A trainee Auror had to be bright, intelligent, capable and fast as well as magic-strong, determined and incorruptible. Most of the kids measured up to those criteria, except Malfoy and Crabbe. In the psychological tests they had taken one evening, as a simple 'exercise', both had come up as sneaky, underhanded and slippery, but they had also scored highly on integrity and tenacity, much to Alastor's astonishment. The magical marking system had concluded that once bought, these two Slytherins would stick to the bargain. Now all Moody had to hope for was that the bargain they had received was attractive enough to keep them interested and that they stayed bought. If they chose to leave their present company, both Slytherins had enough information to make all the Death Eaters attack the school in huge numbers to prevent Harry Potter growing any stronger than he was at present. That possibility terrified Alastor Moody more than any other at this time, including meeting Voldemort face to face.

Having been an Auror for a very long time and having experienced the best and the worst of life, Alastor recognised the growing attraction between Malfoy and Granger, probably before they even realised there was an attraction there themselves. They tiptoed around each other, sharing secret smiles and trying to hide how interested they were in each other's ideas and ideals. She was a magnificent witch and if Malfoy stepped out of line, she would destroy him, so they counteracted each other. Crabbe would follow where Malfoy led without a thought in his head and if Malfoy fell, he would trip over Crabbe's body just before he went down. Crabbe displayed amazing loyalty, and he would give his life to protect Malfoy, if the situation warranted it - if only it was directed at the Light.

When he trained the group, he always teamed Malfoy with the Trio, hoping that the more exposure they had to each other, the more they would learn to trust each other with their very lives. Crabbe, when added to Lovegood and Longbottom made a second trio that stood strong, stronger than Moody had expected. Definitely that 'whole' was stronger than the sum of the parts, just as with the Dream Team.

Oddly enough, Weasley and Malfoy were shaping up to be equals in a very interesting battle of wits. Both were sharp, intelligent and lacking in self-confidence in some areas, although neither of them would believe it. Once they managed to suspend their hostilities, they could almost read each others' minds when it came to strategic planning and execution. If they could learn to be friends, they would be a formidable pair to go up against no matter what the circumstances. Harry was a pure attack wizard and Hermione a defence witch, but the other two were versatile, sneaky and skilled enough to be almost interchangeable. Sticking them on the opposite sides of a chess board had been a real treat to watch, bloodless warfare and a battle that was still going on. It also increased their respect for each other as their small black and white people battled it out for them.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were knocking boots, he'd put his money on it. True, Thomas had been going out with Ginny Weasley for a time but when that fell through he had wandered off between Brown and Parvati Patil but had always returned to Finnigan. They did everything together, including shower and on one memorably public occasion sleep together. They'd passed it off with fair aplomb for their age group, but in all they were accepted as an established couple. That closeness proved to be very useful on a number of occasions, especially when they all but pioneered the joint magic technique.

Yes, he had a good feeling about this group, more than any other group of Auror trainees he'd had been in charge of for years.

oo0oo

It was Saturday again and everyone had had a leisurely breakfast and packed up their goods ready for the end of the spell. At ten thirty, Harry nodded and wandered out the door to be greeted by Ginny Weasley who grinned at his nonchalance.

"Had fun then?" she asked allowing Harry to slot an arm around her waist and pull her close to drop a kiss on her hair.

"It worked, Ginny, it worked," he crowed softly, holding her as close as he could without setting Ron off on a tirade.

Ginny nodded and smiled, kissing Harry's cheek to hide the calculation in her eyes. "So, are you going to spend the Christmas Holidays in there, after all?" she asked casually as they strolled back toward the Gryffindor tower. If they thought she was going to wait on the outside ever again, they had a rude shock coming to them, big brother, boyfriend or not.

"Yes, indeed," her big brother replied, looming up on her other side and grinning down at them. "Roll on Christmas."


	19. Little Choice

**Chapter 18** – _Little Choice_

When Severus woke, he was wrapped around a warm body, not a position he found himself in very often these days. Lying very still, he surveyed the room, noting the dirty windows and scrupulously clean curtains, before slowly freeing himself and sitting up on one elbow. Remus Lupin? Remus Lupin! He must have made some sort of gasp as the werewolf blinked awake and half smiled before his expression turned apprehensive.

"Sev?"

"My name is Severus, werewolf! What the hell are you doing here?" Snape demanded, scooting back as far as the narrow bed would allow. He refused to pull the blankets up to his chin like some Victorian heroine in a badly penned romantic epic.

"You came to me last night when you had a nightmare and… stayed," Remus said slowly, taking in the hardened light in his eyes and the distasteful twist to his lips. "What is the last thing you remember, Severus?"

"I… I answered the Lord's call… and he was angry with everyone. He used the Cruciatus Curse on everyone, indiscriminately. I… I fell but I managed to walk out and…." He broke off as a new flood of memories washed over him, horror, dismay and amusement vying for position on his brow until amazement finally won out. "Merlin protect me! I… you… Tonks is an idiot," he said finally, making Remus giggle nervously.

"Not exactly what I expected. Roger thought you might regain your memories in a rush and said it may cause you to have a headache while everything slotted back into perspective. How do you feel?"

"Like a migraine is just around the corner," Severus muttered, rubbing a temple where a vein jumped erratically. "I… Lupin, I…. Can you kill me now, or do I have to…. Oh Merlin!"

Remus sighed as he eased out of bed and found a dressing gown. Locating his wand, he conjured a pot of chocolate and handed Severus a cup, which the other wizard stared at as if seeing one for the first time. Severus looked up to meet Remus' eyes with a puzzled frown then down at the rich beverage again before managing to take a sip. Remus smiled uneasily then carefully sat down beside the dark wizard, ready to bounce up and back away if Severus reacted adversely to his presence. "Chocolate helps," he murmured encouragingly and managed a real smile as Severus glared at him but continued to sip the brew in short, sharp sips.

"Why you?" Severus asked suddenly, pinning the werewolf to the spot with hard, black eyes that demanded a true answer. "Why were you chosen to look after me while I was… incapacitated?"

"It was me or St Mungo's special ward, and Molly would not let you go there in case the Death Eaters took you while you were unable to defend yourself properly, or at all. You were frightening people and I have a private room, so you were assigned to me while I was on the sick list. You were a good, er, child, er, patient, er…"

Severus glared, smirked, then shook his head. "I can remember drawing in the library with you… and other things. I… felt very safe and protected, not a thing I am used to feeling, I do assure you. Tonks argued with me about potions, the stupid girl, and we sang a lot of songs, didn't we? I have not sung since… my mother died. I… I have not been myself, have I?"

"You survived an ordeal that should have killed you, would have killed a lesser man of a certainty. You are something special, Severus Snape, something very, very special."

A faint blush touched Severus' cheeks for a second before he frowned and bit his lip. "We, er, we were, er, intimate last night, weren't we?"

Remus nodded cautiously. "I… you came to me, I did not take advantage, I swear," Remus promised faithfully.

There was a long silence as Severus ruminated on this, then he nodded slowly. "I… remember. You have cared for me, for all my needs, even when I was totally helpless and incapable of even taking care of the most basic bodily functions. And you made no jokes about me, simply dealing with my incapacity as a matter of course." Severus stared at the bowed honey-blond head in amazement, a deeper and more certain feeling stirring in his mind and heart. Reaching forward with long, thin fingers, he raised Remus' chin and met his eyes, a softness entering his own as he slowly leaned forward and kissed the werewolf gently, carefully. "It was not something I would expect," he murmured. The gentleness did not last as their passions caught fire, weeks of interaction finally reaching a gestalt of adult emotions too complex to analyse in a fraction of a second.

They made love as equals in the early morning light, both giving and taking completely, sharing their bodies and worshipping each other with unstinting joy. Remus had never felt so alive or complete, his whole being concentrated on the single person who made his world perfect and beautiful. The wolf, only days from the full moon, rose to take dominance, the need to bond and mate becoming urgent.

Severus lifted his head to stare at the golden eyes glowing in the face that seemed more wolfish in the early light, his sense of _Legilimency_ reaching out to enter the man's mind and look the wolf in the eye. It was not a savage beast as it had been the last time he looked at it, but a protective, nurturing pack mate who would kill or die to protect him from any harm. Seeing the beast as a friend and ally, Severus acknowledged it and bent to kiss Remus firmly as he entered his body in one smooth thrust. The wolf took Severus to its heart, enfolding and accepting him; accepting the mating bond, accepting the tall, thin man as his mate forever.

They slept, curled around each other, the bond they had created growing firmer and more entrenched, more permanent and binding, at least on Remus' part although it did not bind Severus in the same way. When he awoke some three hours later, Severus rose carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping man who looked even smaller and frailer in his vulnerable position. Gentle fingers smoothed a curl away from Remus' brow and a faint sigh gusted out as Severus straightened. He knew what he had to do, what he had to accomplish to make himself a perfect spy once again and to keep his beautiful mate safe.

Slipping into his clothes and gliding from the room, Severus made his way downstairs, noting the hole in the wall where Mrs Black's picture had been. He ghosted into the kitchen and surprised Molly at the stove, making something that smelled delicious for dinner.

"Oh, Severus, you startled me. Is Remus sleeping still? This close to moon he should be gathering his strength, he had such a bad time last month," Molly chattered as she stirred the stew.

"Yes, Remus is sleeping, but I cannot stay; I have to get back to You-Know-Who and show my front again," Severus replied heavily.

Molly whipped around to stare at the tall man, seeing the hardness about his mouth and the tightness in his eyes. "Severus, you… you are yourself again, aren't you? Oh dear, how is Remus taking it? I… you haven't--" She broke off, unable to continue as the black eyes turned flint hard.

"Thank you for your care and concern, I… appreciate it," Severus replied stiffly but before he could continue, Remus burst into the room and skidded to a stop, relief flicking across his face when he spotted Severus.

"I was worried," he muttered, ducking his head. "I… you were gone."

"I have to go back, there is a faint sense of curiosity in my Mark, and I need time to prepare myself to face the Dark Lord again. After all, he is as good at _Legilimency_ as I am, perhaps even better in some ways," he added sourly as the werewolf approached cautiously and stood very close, not quite touching, but….

"Can he hurt you, will he hurt you again? Do you really have to go back and face him so soon?"

Severus turned away and strode off, back toward their room, away from the audience that was slowly assembling as the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place came down for lunch. Remus hurried after him as he thrust the nearest door open and whirled around to confront the werewolf with a grim face. "I am not a fool, Remus Lupin, nor a child to be coddled and protected, regardless of the past few days…"

"...weeks…"

"…weeks," Severus acknowledged from between gritted teeth. "If I go back to Voldemort smelling of wolf and orange-blossom - even figuratively - he is going to destroy everything we have, everything we have shared. Tom Riddle always was a jealous creature and his time as a disembodied soul has only intensified the very worst of his characteristics. He is a genuine monster, Lupin, the like of which this world has never seen, and I feel I am partially responsible for creating him. He dabbles in demon sacrifice and blood rites. If he is not stopped, he will destroy the world; not just our magical world but the whole of the earth. I love you and care for you, but you are merely one man against such a terrifying fate. As much as it will destroy me, it is a small sacrifice to make if it will bring about his downfall before he grows any stronger. I hope you can understand, and perhaps forgive me."

Remus whined, biting his lip as he watched his mate pace the threadbare hearthrug in short, jerky strides. Intellectually he agreed with Severus, but emotionally he was being slowly torn apart. "What will you do?" he managed to ask past the obstruction in his throat.

Severus stopped and stared at him, sorrow and anguish softening his features for a moment before he straightened again. "I must gather everything we have shared and wall it away in the deepest recesses of my mind where it will be safe from discovery. I hesitate to brag, but not even Tom Riddle managed to penetrate all my defences, even when we were…"

"…lovers?" Remus asked, no accusation in his voice, just sadness and loss.

Nodding slowly, Snape moved forward and carefully wrapped a long arm around the smaller man, pressing his slim length to his heart for a final time. "Yes, many years ago we were lovers as well as friends, and I worshipped the ground he walked upon without thought or distinction. But then he turned, cutting up his soul and feeding it to demons to gain more power, using others' souls in ways that were abhorrent to any thinking man. So, I lost respect for him. You know what they say about a love gone sour? Yes, well, I suppose I am a cliché case." Severus snorted derisively; self-disgust colouring his tone as he eased the smaller man away from him. "So you see, my dear wolf, I have a history of destroying anyone and anything I love, and I fear that I would destroy you if it was necessary to accomplish my goals."

"If 'destroying' me would save you, then that's okay, but Severus, never trivialise what we have had, even if you do not remember most of it," Remus warned as he straightened away. "I love you, and I always will. Do what you have to do and we'll talk again, once this stupid war is over. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Severus nodded sadly and watched as the wolf left before hurrying away himself.

oo0oo

"Did you hear, Professor Snape is back to his usual nasty self again," Ron muttered to Malfoy out the side of his mouth as they shouldered past each other in the hallway.

Goyle snarled wordlessly and Pansy gave Hermione a push in passing that ricocheted her off Malfoy's shoulder. Then the two parties were past each other, heading in opposite directions. Hermione felt the crackle of parchment in her hand where Draco had passed her a note but was not brave enough to look at it just yet. She felt eyes on her and glanced up to meet Harry's knowing smile, a faint answering smile of her own just touching her lips.

The note asked her to meet him in the library that evening after dinner, and she was there in plenty of time to see him push around the stacks and into their small island of solitude and privacy. He wasted no time on formalities, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her around in silent exuberance. "Did you hear that Uncle Severus has recovered all his faculties again? He is all better!" the usually supercilious boy said with real joy in his eyes. "He flooed into Malfoy Manor this afternoon, still weak but getting better, my father said in his note. It seems he managed to find a medi-witch who was a Dark Lord sympathiser to look after him once he crawled away from the meeting. I'll get the rest of the story if I go home for the weekend, but so far it seems to be holding up."

"Oh, I'm so glad for you," Hermione gushed, laying her head against his chest and hugging him tightly. "Now you can relax a little, can't you?"

Draco drew a deep breath then blew it out gustily. "No, now the worry changes to another sort. Now I have to hope that Uncle Severus is strong enough in his mind to resist the Dark Lord's _Legilimency,_ or we are both toast. I have to hope the Dark Lord doesn't look into my head and see just how much of a part I played in Uncle Severus' disappearance. In fact, I had better be sure I don't come under the Lord's eye in any way because what is in my head, even just being here with you, is enough to get me and my family killed."

"Then we must not do this again," Hermione said decisively, pulling back from him, but he refused to let her go.

"It's too late to go back, Wild Hair; it was too late when I went into that week-long training session with you lot in the Room of Requirement. All I can do now is stay away from as many meetings as possible and pray the Lord does not demand any explanations from me. It sort of destroys my usefulness as a spy, but better to lose some information than give the Lord what I have in my head."

"Can you avoid the meetings?"

"Well, that's where I hope Professor McGonagall will come in useful," Draco said calculatingly, as he eased them both into chairs, retaining a hold on her hand. "I want her to forbid me to leave the school under any circumstances; in fact, I want her to forbid most of the students to leave. I don't know what excuse she can give but she really needs to get one happening before my father calls me out and all the plans are disrupted."

"And will he call you home?"

Draco sighed again. "I just don't know," he confessed heavily.

oo0oo

The letter was sent out on rich, heavy parchment to every parent of a child in Hogwarts. The main train line between Hogsmeade and the south had been attacked and destroyed by Death Eaters. In itself, this was not terribly significant but, when taken into account with a lot of other recent incidents, the school board had decided to cancel all student activity over the next twelve months. At first they had planned to close the school completely, but after due consideration they decided it was probably safer to have the students protected by the magical defences around Hogwarts than isolated and vulnerable in their homes. No child would be granted weekend leave from school during term time, and all Hogsmeade weekends were cancelled for the duration. No child would leave the Hogwarts grounds unattended by either a parent or a teacher. The Hogwarts Express would no longer run between Hogwarts and London. Instead, each parent had to floo in and pick up their child, then they would both be flooed directly to their home from the Great Hall, or in the case of Muggle-borns, to the nearest Aurory and from there be escorted home.

"What does she think she is doing?" Pansy complained bitterly as she read her copy of the letter.

"Saving the hoards of ickle kiddies from the nasty old Dark Lord, of course," Draco drawled sarcastically. "Well, that puts a crimp in my weekend plans. I can't see my father or mother flooing into this place to get me, can you?"

Crabbe snorted, Pansy giggled and a few seconds later Goyle got the joke and laughed along uncertainly, not sure why Draco's parents would be reluctant to get him.

In Gryffindor there was a similar sense of uneasiness, but for a different reason.

"My parents are going to go spare," Hermione said flatly, her frown thoughtful. "How on earth am I going to explain it to them?"

"You can always floo home with us and meet them at the Burrow," Ginny said generously, chewing the end of her quill thoughtfully. "Mum and Dad won't notice a few extra bodies around the place, and I know Mum gets on really well with your mum."

"Looks like I'm here for the duration then," Harry chuckled, scribbling another sentence on his Divination homework scroll. "Well, I can't see my aunt or uncle taking kindly to me turning up with an Auror escort for the holidays, nor coming to get me out of school for the weekend, can you?"

His friends laughed uneasily, but no one disagreed with him as they all turned back to their homework to hide the small hints of triumph they felt. Professor McGonagall had risen to the occasion magnificently!


	20. Distrust and Diligence

**Author's Note:** I fixed He's Alive, But Living, no more underlines, sorry about that folks. Glad you are enjoying the story but any expectations about it being a Harry/Sev are going to be sadly disappointed, this is DEFINITELY a Remus/Severus encounter and a Harry/Ginny encounter. And for PtStibbons, there can never be too much Pratchett in the world. LOL.

Thank you all for reading.

Les

**Chapter 19** – _Distrust and Diligence_

Malfoy Manor never changed; it was timeless and stately, the golden stone façade looking more welcoming than the interior these days. Severus sighed as he leaned on the balustrade of his suite's balcony, looking out over the rolling gardens and forested precincts of the grounds. He had spent a lot of his youth in this place, carving out a niche for himself as the brewer of Abraxas Malfoy's potions and the lover of Lucius Malfoy. He and Narcissa had been not friends, but allies in the game of being pureblood aristocracy. Then the war happened and a baby boy had defeated their Dread Lord!

He snorted in disgust as he strolled back into the suite he had always used when at Malfoy. This was as close to a home away from Hogwarts as he had. The panic that Lord Voldemort's death had engendered amongst the loyal Death Eaters had been horrifying. Arrogant Aurors demanding and insisting on retribution, Ministry officials trying to confiscate anything not nailed down, and Azkaban had loomed large on the horizon. He'd had only a few hours to try and preserve some part of his life, and in those few hours he had managed to destroy more than he saved. Ironic really.

The potion had indeed been liquid Imperius, thought impossible to brew but he had done it, could still do it in a heartbeat - or a few weeks, because that was how long it took to brew. He had brought the only precious bottle he had left to Lucius and Narcissa, making them take it, then telling them they had only served their Lord because they were under the Imperius Curse. And that had preserved their lives, liberty and fortune, but it had shattered Narcissa's unsteady faith in him and his commitment to their Lord. Lucius had seen the reality and had complied immediately, the consummate politician, but Narcissa was a true believer and it had broken her in a fundamental way. She had taken the potion because Malfoys _did not_ go to Azkaban, but she never really believed that their Lord was truly dead, and how right she proved to be, Merlin help them all!

A slight noise behind him made him turn and smile grimly as Lucius glided in and sprawled elegantly on the bed as he had twenty years before. Hard to imagine all that time passing really, Severus was only just beginning to assimilate its reality; the lines of dissipation on Lucius' handsome face were still a shock to his system. Hell, even looking in the mirror was something of a shock. Although, he had to say he had held up rather well against the ravages of time; good genes, those vampire ones.

Lucius smiled back, his polite society smile, not the one he used to have for 'Severo', his young lover. He studied the tall man carefully, noting that Severus was even thinner than usual and his robes were definitely shabby. Still, he had 'come through a terrible ordeal' according to his story, so a little wear and tear was acceptable. Although how acceptable his excuse for his absence would be to their Lord, was a very different thing. The Dark Lord did not suffer fools at all these days, would not tolerate anything but whole-hearted worship from his supporters. Lucius wondered if Severus was still the whole-hearted supporter he had been when he and the Dark Lord were lovers, or was Severus really Dumbledore's whore these days. Again, it was not his question to ask; it was their Lord's and he wanted to see Severus immediately.

oo0oo

As always, Severus fell to his knees as soon as the Lord turned toward him as was expected. He kept his head lowered and his voice soft as he answered the Lord's questions fully and wholeheartedly, speaking the implanted memories with complete conviction. After only a few minutes, Lord Voldemort seemed to grow bored with the polite answers Severus was giving him and simply reached out a long, thin hand and grabbed a handful of lank black hair dragging the man's head back and chin up. A flick of a finger removed the standard Death Eater mask, and the Lord surged into Snape's mind with all the finesse of a stampeding elephant.

Snape knew better than to tense or try to hide anything from his Lord, allowing the man to riffle through his mind at will, ignoring the discomfort such a brutal assault caused. When the Lord found a locked space he simply blasted it apart and physically staggered when the memories hit him. Two young men made love in front of a fire; the chessboard between them showing a hotly contested match; sharing a glass of fine firewhiskey at some function; kissing in the dark. Even the Lord stopped to watch the tender memories, a faint hint of wistful regret leaking over the _Legilimens'_ bond.

"_We were young and foolish, my Severus,_" the words echoed into his mind.

"We were happy," Severus murmured aloud, regret thick in his mind until the _Cruciatus Curse_ threw him onto his back in shock.

"I will know the truth from you, Severus Snape, even if it kills you!" The Lord's smile was full of cruel promise, but the man writhing on the ground was incapable of responding.

oo0oo

Remus groaned as the last joint popped and the last muscle twitched. Transition had been hard, but not as vicious as it could have been without Wolfsbane. Still, the burden of sadness he carried in his heart had not helped, and he knew the wolf had howled loudly at the Mistress for most of the night, singing out his loss to the unseen who could understand him. His throat was still raw this morning and felt like he had been swallowing sand all night. Even as he drifted off to sleep again, the very last scene between Severus and himself played out in his mind, refusing to allow him to rest in peace.

Severus had held him tight against his chest, running his hands through Remus' unruly curls with a sad smile. They both knew that Severus' returning health meant the ideal world they had built in this small, dingy room was coming to a finish. They could no more stop time passing than stop the world they had to live in. The longer Severus put off returning to He-Who-_Should_-Not-Be-Named, the worse the consequences would be.

"But you will come back, won't you?" Remus asked anxiously, moon tides making him nervous and flighty.

Severus said nothing for a long time before he slowly shook his head. "I cannot risk you, Remus, or risk anything we have here. If he found out about you, he would dig and dig until he had all my secrets. Then it would be total disaster for the Order, the Light and eventually the end of all hope. You know that."

Remus stared up in horror. "But what about… this?"

"I am going to move anything and everything about my illness and our relationship into a safe place and wall it away until the end of the war. Remus! Stop that!" He pressed the werewolf's face into his shoulder to stifle the high keening note that heralded the avalanche of distress coursing through the slim man's soul. "Please, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I like this solution? No, but I can't risk you, Remy, I can't! I have given almost everything I have to Tom Riddle and I will not give up this, not you, not the joy and love you have shown me nor the care and pleasure you have given me. He will rot in the lowest pits of hell before he takes even a second of our love from me. Nor will he use it to fashion a tool to strike at you. I will drink my own concoctions before I allow that to happen."

No matter how reasonably Remus had argued – or how unreasonably he had railed against fate – Severus was not to be swayed. Eventually, he had left 12 Grimmauld Place in a swirl of black robes, and that was the last Remus had seen of him. Gods above, he missed young Sevvy's presence, missed Sev the teen's horrible sense of humour and rather better than average singing. Even Tonks had missed the verbal sparring matches she and Severus had indulged in. Pre-moon stress had been even worse than usual, knowing what he was missing and knowing it would not come again. Gods, he hated the war, hated being separated from his mate, hated having to hide all the time. He just wanted Severus back to fill up the void in his soul, was that too much to ask, really?

He woke with a jump, something touching his still wolf-keen senses so close to moonset. There was another wolf in his territory, not a stranger but a pack mate! Rising quickly, Remus dressed in what he thought of as his wolf costume, Muggle jeans, leather jacket and Sirius' cycle boots before slipping out the back door and ghosting into the back lane. Raising his head, he tested the wind like his alter-ego then smiled slightly as a very familiar scent touched his sensitive nostrils. A pack mate was indeed hanging around, waiting for him to show.

"Alpha?"

Remus spun on his toes, crouching slightly before a smile lightened his features. "Gorum," he acknowledged the wolf with a quiet word.

The man grinned, his tongue hanging out slightly and his whole posture that of a happy wolf. Gorum was what people used to call simple, with a low IQ that had never been trained. As a human he was too like the wolf; as a wolf, he was a happy puppy, ready to join in any game with skill and expertise. He was one of the few werewolves who didn't entirely lose his humanity in wolf form, but he didn't entirely lose his wolfishness in human form, either.

"Alpha Prime wants you," Gorum said cheerfully, before sniffing deeply. "Your scent has changed; you have mated but… but it is not a happy thing for you. Why is your mating not happy, Alpha? I thought mates made us happy."

Remus sighed, patting the older man's shoulder reassuringly. "Mates make us happy, but circumstances make us unhappy. My mate had to go away into a very dangerous situation, and that makes me unhappy, especially as I could not go with him."

"Him? Your mate is a him? How you goin' to get cubs if it's a him?" Gorum demanded in exasperation, making Remus smile despite his pain.

"Good question, I'll have to think about that one." Remus chuckled then sobered. "Where is the Alpha Prime waiting?"

"At home, our den," Gorum added for clarification and Remus nodded, gripping his wand. "Are we going to apparate? I'll hold on tight," he promised when Remus nodded again. Gorum had never learned more than the most rudimentary wishcraft, and he found all aspects of real magic fascinating. His personal magic was reasonably strong but totally untrained; still, it gave whoever was casting over him enough of a boost to take Gorum with them.

Without even thinking about it, Remus tapped into Gorum's magical energy and apparated them both out to Ilkley Moor and the tumble of broken country that hid the small cave Remus had long ago converted into a cosy and weatherproof den for himself and any pack member who needed shelter. Gorum often stayed there having nowhere else to go.

A fire already burned in the grate, a cauldron full of stew simmering over the coals. An older man sat on the pile of rabbit skins Gorum had painstakingly tanned and thronged together, one of Remus' books in his hands. He looked up with a smile as the two newcomers pushed into the entrance, careful not to let the heat or light escape for more than a second. Gorum immediately hurried over and dropped to his knees, allowing the Alpha Prime to stroke his hair and scratch his neck before turning to stir the stew. Remus grinned at his old friend, offering his hand in a more conventional greeting.

"Hello, Jonathon. Gorum said you wanted to see me," Remus greeted and accepted the bowl Gorum thrust at him, blowing on the stew to cool it.

"I certainly did, Moony. Greyback is causing trouble again."

Remus stiffened, baring his teeth in a snarl. Gorum grunted, half whining an agreement to Moony's rage. Jonathon McCarthy, Hayborn, Alpha Prime of the packs of Great Britain snapped his teeth in censure, then chuffed to settle his pack members down. "I know you hate him, Remus, but don't let that hate cloud your judgement; I need you sane and reasoning when we go to deal with him for once and for all. It seems he is calling on various packs with weak alphas and blackmailing them into working with the Dark Lord. Some, he gives extravagant promises of freedom, cubs for all, and wealth beyond their wildest imaginings. One fellow told me he was also promising that, if a wolf didn't join, he would bite a nearest and dearest and make sure the dissenter was blamed for the conversion; you know how he works."

Remus rubbed his shoulder and nodded grimly. "Who has he gotten to?"

"He seems to be working down the Pennine Chain at the moment, and as far out as the midlands. Luna and Petal reported him in their vicinity, but he didn't attempt to corrupt their pack. He kept going down toward Middlesbrough. However, I believe he is going to address the Vitial Pack on the Romney Marshes tonight. Think you can keep a lid on your temper long enough to hear him out?"

"I can," Remus assured him grimly.

"Me, too." Gorum nodded, coming to sit on his haunches before them.

"Very well, Paddy O'Connell will meet us at the edge of Romney with the apparation coordinates for the meeting this evening. Let us eat our stew and prepare for an interesting evening then."

oo0oo

The flames were brilliant white, the smoke making strange shapes in the air, then a phoenix rose above them all, singing of triumph and joy. It swooped toward Harry, circling his head, the song changing to one of urgency before the marble tomb stretched out a heavy stone hand and encased the phoenix, silencing its plea instantly.

Harry woke with a jump and a shout, sweat dripping from his brow. He had not had such dreams for ages, not since he seriously studied the Occlumency Professor Snape had tried to teach him. Ron sat up sleepily, Neville grumbled as he turned over, but Harry had to sit up, scrubbing at his eyes to try and stem the tears. This was not a Voldemort-inspired dream, but something else. The phoenix around his neck seemed to be humming but as soon as he put his finger on it, it stopped, the last remnants of sleep dispersing.

Sighing, Harry allowed his body to relax and flop back against the pillow, a renewed sense of loss coursing through him. Professor McGonagall had wanted to close the school after the death of Dumbledore, but the School Governors had decided they needed the huge centre of magic that Hogwarts represented alive and functioning in the dark days after Lord Voldemort's supposed triumph. Most of the students had returned too, glad for a hint of normality amongst the terror and uncertainty all around. Harry had been determined to go and hunt down the five remaining Horcruxes, assuming that the Horcrux Dumbledore had died to rescue was still out there. A letter he had received during the holidays had persuaded him to forget that plan and return to Hogwarts, a letter from a dead man delivered by a very plain, brown-haired Tonks.

When he'd seen Snape smirking at them from the front of the DADA classroom, he had gone for his wand and he had scored a good hit with his hex before anyone could stop him. It had taken some fancy spell work from Madame Pomfrey to stop Snape bleeding to death from the very spell he had invented. He was still not reconciled to Snape being the Judas who had told Lord Voldemort about the prophecy, but he did understand having to do something abhorrent simply because of an order. After all, who had force-fed Professor Dumbledore a potion that had hurt him badly because he was under orders? As much as he hated to admit it at the time, he and Professor Snape had had that in common: orders they hated that simply had to be followed.

Still, there was something intrinsically disturbing about that dream, something banging on the walls of his subconscious, trying to get out and grab his attention. Harry didn't have a lot of experience with funerals, neither Muggle nor Wizarding, and had no real facts to base his uneasiness upon. Sighing he turned over and faced away from Ron, toward Neville who had gone back to sleep without really waking. Poor old Neville, fancy being forced to learn by rote how to conduct a funeral. Really, his Gran was the living end at times, the way she treated him, like he was an idiot or something.

"Neville!" Harry sat straight up, the shout echoing through the dormitory, making even Seamus grunt irritably.

Neville sat straight up, a yelp of fright breaking out as he covered his head with both hands. "Wasn't me! Wasn't me!" he yelled before he was awake properly and realised where he was. "Damn it, Harry. You nearly scared me to death!" Neville complained, still panting with the fright of his abrupt awakening.

"Neville, please tell me about burying people, you know, funeral arrangements," Harry insisted, kneeling on his bed, his glasses perched precariously on his nose.

Neville groaned and flopped backwards. "Who are you supposed to be, my Gran?" he inquired huffily, struggling to be awake enough to listen to his friend.

"Sorry, Neville, but it is important," Harry insisted, swinging his legs down and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "Do you remember the day in the Room of Requirement, you were telling us about funeral arrangements? I want you to tell me all about them, slowly but surely, okay?"

Huffing and puffing, Neville scrubbed his fingers through his hair, then sighed deeply. "Alright, Harry, here we go. First of all, once you discover the person is dead, that is, stopped breathing and the life spell registers nothing, then you have to call up the mortician or the family Master of Rites, depending on how important the death is. They bring out the Death Rites tray which has a number of crystal bowls, boxes and cups on it. You have to use the silver Kris to cut off a lock of hair, which must be placed in the square crystal box. Then, using the same silver Kris, you have to open a vein and draw blood which goes into the crystal cup. Last of all - and worst if you ask me – you have to cut a piece of muscle from either the arm or the leg and put it into the crystal dish. You must then take the tray and the body down to the bier and lay the body out. There should be some stone or metal blocks ready so that you can fashion the brazier, and you don't know which one will be most suitable until the last moment. Then you use the transfiguration spell to make the brazier. You put the kindling into the brazier, wood shavings usually, exotic woods from choice, and you get that alight. Then you add the piece of flesh all of a chunk. After the flesh is blazed away to ash, you add the blood one drop at a time. Once that is gone, then you add the hair, one strand at a time. It may take a day or more to do all this, but once it is done, then you just have to add the wood shavings to the fire to keep it alight until the funeral is called. If there are a lot of relatives, then it is fairly easy as you take turns. If there is just one, then you can use friends to help you out; either the deceased's friends or your own, or both. At the end of the week, you have the interment service where the body is either cremated or is interred whole in an impregnable tomb. That's it, end of an era." There was sadness in Neville as he described the funeral and Harry understood that this was what his Grandmother expected of him, his last service to his family.

"Thank you, Neville, I appreciate it. Now tell me, why was Professor Dumbledore's service so different? There was no brazier, there were no friends feeding wood shavings to the fire. I don't think they took parts of him and fed them to the flames, either. He was placed on a table, the Master of Rites…."

"That wasn't the Dumbledore Master of Rites, that was just a bloke from the Ministry," Ron put in, making his 'awake' status known. "My dad said it was odd, too," he added for good measure.

"Okay, there was no Master of Rites, no proper ceremony, just a marble table that was enveloped in a ring of fire that caused a marble tomb to be created around Professor Dumbledore's body. What does that tell anyone?"

"Someone screwed up?" Neville offered tentatively, apologetically.

"Someone was planning to take the body away?" Ron asked in a fierce growl.

"Or someone did not really bury a dead - as in never to be alive again - Dumbledore," Harry mused speculatively.

All three boys stared into space alone with their own thoughts.


	21. Not Tolerated

**Chapter 20** – _Not Tolerated_

The Romney Marshes were a lonely, ghost ridden place in the falling twilight of early winter. The wind made odd rustling and howls in the dry vegetation; the distant cries of seabirds coming in to land to avoid a storm at sea were the loneliest sound of all. Fifty people stood huddled together in a slight hollow, moving from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm, a few looking askance at the distant tumbled down sheep fold which was the only sign of habitation in this god-forsaken, semi-frozen hell.

The triple pop of apparation made some look around but when the four men proved to be ordinary, cloak-huddled and wrapped people, they turned back to their rapt contemplation of the alter-like pile of rocks at one end of the natural amphitheatre. No one thought to question why three pops produced four people. The four newcomers huddled together as far from the rest of the crowd as possible, an unobtrusive silencing spell keeping their conversation private from all the sharp-eared werewolves before them.

"Looks like they aren't here yet, so tell me, what was the reason for all this wild secrecy?" Paddy O'Connell asked, blowing on his fingers in disgust.

"Greyback's at it again, recruiting for the Dark Side," Jonathon said grimly, carefully studying the members of the audience, noting who the disaffected and dissatisfied were. "I'm not sure why he is doing it, or what sort of deal he will offer, but I will bet it's of the kind that most people just dare not refuse. What I need are the names of anyone you recognise before he gets here, simply because you can be sure he will not let anyone leave unless they are willing to pledge some sort of commitment to him…"

"Damned right!" O'Connell snapped in disgust. "If you don't agree to do as he asks of you, you may find him lying in wait for your children one dark and moonlit night. I hate to say it, but I think he is a werewolf on all three nights of moon, not just the Wolfmoon."

Jonathon sighed. "He has eaten human flesh which means he is truly contaminated with the animal, rather more the wereman than the werewolf, I'm afraid."

"Good way to put it, Jon," Remus agreed, frowning when he saw Tobias Horfund off to his left. "Now what hold does he have on Horfund, I wonder? Tobias doesn't have a family that I am aware of."

"Oh, he has a family alright," Jon said flatly. "He is one of the few werewolves who managed to remain fertile and his children are trueborn werewolves. If the Ministry found out, they would be taken away and destroyed, and he would be executed immediately. Tobias has a great deal to lose. I only wonder how Greyback found out."

"Maybe someone ratted on him?" Paddy speculated, then stiffened as a group of black shrouded, white masked men apparated onto the rocky stage, a wild-haired figure in their midst. "Look out now, he's here."

"Welcome, my friends," Greyback said expansively, sweeping the assembly a low bow. He received a low-voiced growl in return. "Oh, come now, you are all here for your own reasons and self-interest, you can't say you aren't."

"Only because you threaten us," someone in the crowd jeered bitterly.

"Can any single one of you say I have threatened you personally?" Greyback sneered, then sniggered when the crowd moved uneasily.

Gorum was growling deep in his throat, a noise to make the hair raise on Remus' neck if he hadn't been growling himself. Jon laid a hand on each shoulder warning them to calm down a bit. Gorum almost snapped at the hand then gave a small, apologetic whine before he slipped from under his friend's control. "I go sniff around," he murmured and was gone, another shadow in the shadows.

Remus repeated a calming mantra and managed to bring his fear/hate/disgust under control. Jon let go of his shoulder with an approving pat and carefully made his way further forward in the crowd until he stood only a few feet from the front row, listening to Greyback spew his brand of rhetoric and poison over the assembly. Fenrir had not changed in all the time Jon had bumped into him, and McCarthy had been a werewolf a very long time. Where most werewolves showed the stress and aging their condition caused, Fenrir simply revelled in the carnage and bloodshed. In fact, that seemed to be the crux of the rant Greyback was in the process of delivering, along with a fine spray of spittle his vehemence caused.

"The Lord guarantees there will be enough blood so that none of us have to wear ourselves out in transformations every month; we will be rejuvenated instead of exhausted. Imagine you women keeping your fair beauty until you are eighty, ninety instead of looking like worn-out old hags by the time you turn thirty? Admit it; you would do anything to remain in the first flush of youth."

"Except prey on children…" a voice called anonymously from the crowd.

The Death Eaters stirred irritably, and Greyback growled furiously but stopped when a commotion began at the back of the crowd, spreading as someone pushed forward without regard for good manners.

"Alpha! Alpha!" Gorum's voice rose in fear and what sounded like loathing as he literally pushed people out of his way in his search. "Oh, Alpha, it's awful. Cubs, look, babies in the sheepfold," he exclaimed as he located Jon and all but hopped from foot to foot in agitation. His left hand was firmly wrapped around the upper arm of a girl of perhaps thirteen who clutched a little boy of less than three in her arms. A pair of boys no more than seven clung to the ragged edge of the man's robes and tried to hide from the sight of the swelling fury on the stage.

"I told you lot to stay in the hut," Greyback snarled furiously.

The girl wrenched her arm free and ran toward him, the stink of urine and terror raw in the air. "Please don't hurt us, please, we tried, we tried!" she shrieked in terror, but the incensed man simply backhanded her out of the way, snatching the child from her arms as she flew backward and landed with a soggy thump almost at Jon McCarthy's feet. She didn't move again.

Before anyone could react, Fenrir Greyback held the small boy out at arms' length, his hand wrapped around the child's thin neck. The crowd surged, but they were wolves and the cub was choking; they were in a dilemma. The mutters of unrest were becoming a low-grade snarl underscored and punctuated by the cries of the two small boys who clutched Gorum and cried softly into his robes.

"Fodder, nothing but fodder; they are Muggles, legitimate prey for our species. Sweet meat and tasty, too," Fenrir sneered, suddenly realising who was confronting him across the space around the girl's still body. "So, the _Alpha_ of the British Werewolves dares to show his face in my presence at last, does he? I have been waiting for you, old man."

"Have you now?" Jon asked, reaching out to pat Gorum gently. "Greyback, you give all werewolves a bad name. Are your so-called youthful looks and energy worth the price you pay? And what do you pay him you call Master, your fear and fawning? Are you a wolf or a mere pet animal that does his bidding and licks his boots when he tosses you a bone? And is this rampage amongst innocent children your reward from your Master? You are pathetic!"

Greyback roared and shook the child, the snap of his neck clearly audible as he threw the body at Jon's head before charging. The crowd roared back, surging forward as their Alpha carefully caught the dead child, passing it quickly to Gorum who took it and huddled over the last two living ones. The Death Eaters on the stage snatched out wands but were too slow to pit their human reflexes against the incensed werewolves that swarmed over them, howling and snarling. Their inner wolves were freed of all restraint as the five Death Eaters were dragged down and torn to pieces before they could apparate away.

Snarling and snapping, Greyback and McCarthy squared off, fury and the need to conquer fuelling a battle of epic proportions. Both were strong and in their prime, Greyback obviously younger and faster, but McCarthy was a wily fighter, veteran of many a dominance battle. In wolf form they would have used their teeth and jaws but in human form these weapons were not as effective as fists and feet as Greyback found out. Steeped in his wolf, he forgot his humanity and tried to be wolf only to run into McCarthy's very fast and potent right hook. Staggering slightly, the wereman tried to snap and grapple, but Jon danced back and kicked him in the solar plexus, making him howl in agony, his breath forced out.

Fenrir clasped both arms over his middle, doubling over as he staggered past, the shock of taking a beating jarring him back to his senses. His fingers found his wand grip and as he turned, he pulled the blackthorn wand, but Jon was quicker, _Expelliarmus_ already ringing out. Greyback spun on the spot with the force of the spell but kept coming, his arms held wide to grapple, his fingers showing claws now. McCarthy's wand became a knife and plunged to the hilt in the enraged man's chest, slashing and opening his heart in one stroke. The momentum of his body bore Jon to the ground and knocked the wind out of him for a few moments, enough to allow a stray hex to fly harmlessly over his head.

Remus turned but Paddy O'Connell was already taking the last of the Death Eaters down, tossing his body into the seething, snarling crowd. Remus hurried over to drag the limp form of the rogue wolf off his Alpha, bending to find the pulse at McCarthy's neck and grinning as the older man managed to gasp a breath, then a better one.

"Still with us then, Old Man," Remus grinned in relief, a showing of teeth only.

"Still with you, Kid," Jon managed to gasp back, taking the offered hand and allowing Remus to pull him to his feet to survey the fury of the crowd. Tossing back his head he howled, long and loud, calling the wolves to order with all the authority of his Alpha status that had been proved once again in the face of a major Challenge.

Reluctantly, the wolves drew back, the blood red fury draining away, leaving them slightly ashamed of the animal instinct that had possessed them all. Jon surveyed them carefully then sighed as he limped over to the mound and climbed up to address them. "Greyback is dead; I have destroyed him. I am the Alpha, does anyone dispute this?" he asked arrogantly, glaring down at the massed crowd. All eyes fell; all heads bowed, some slowly, many in sheer, unconcealed relief. "These are my words to you all. We are werewolves. The Dark Lord and his minions are not our kind! If we turn to them then we will be dragged down into the pit of their digging. If they come to you and threaten you again, do not bend to them, call for reinforcements. We are pack animals, and we have to support each other. You Alphas, get organised, talk to your pack members, make a plan, and start defending each other and your human families. Attacking Muggles is not the way to find salvation; it is the road to madness and death. The whole werewolf nation needs to start banding together and protecting our own from the Dark Lord and anyone else who would use us to their own ends. I include the damned Ministry in that lot, too. Spread the word, a meeting of all Alphas will be called for December Moon on the Yorkshire Moors. Be there!"

He was about to jump down when someone pushed through the crowd and Tobias Horfund stood hipshot and challenging in the circle around Gorum and the children's bodies. "All very well, Alpha, but what about this lot? We have two dead children, two live ones and the tattered remains of five Dark wizards to deal with. What do you suggest there, Old Man?"

Jon paused and stared down at the younger man until he dropped his eyes and his attitude a little. "Gorum, can you bring the children here?"

The simple werewolf managed to nod and carefully drew the two boys forward, avoiding the blood and gore on the grass until they stood at the foot of the mound. The two children, dirty and ragged, clung to the last vestige of stability they could find as the adults looked them over. Jon hunkered down to their level and lifted the first boy's chin, looking for the signs. "Have you been turned?" he asked gently, not seeing anything obvious. "Did the werewolf bite you?"

The boy shook his head but held out his arm where a long deep scratch festered. The other boy moved, too, to show a matching scratch and Jon sighed deeply. "Do you know where you live?" The both nodded. "Are your families wizards or Muggles?"

One boy said wizard and the other just looked confused so Jon assumed he was a Muggle. Rising, Jon beckoned Remus and Paddy over. "Any suggestions?"

Paddy nodded. "They're both infected, even if they haven't turned yet. They can't go back even if their families wanted them. If we turn them over to the Wizengamot, you know who will get the blame for all this, don't you?"

"Give them to me," Tobias said gruffly, coming up behind the huddled group.

"Why would we do that?" Jon asked with hidden amusement.

"Because I have a couple of cubs about their age at home, as you very well know, Jonathon McCarthy. My wife's sister can look after them if they don't turn for a few moons."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. "Seems like a plan. So, boys, do you want to go with Tobias to his house and meet his children?"

The boys simply looked terrified and bewildered while Paddy snorted and Tobias shook his head. "Well saying you are a bachelor," he remarked as he hunkered down beside the boys and put an arm around each. "Come on, kids, we're going home," he said softly and apparated.

"One problem solved, next!" Jon muttered under his breath as he climbed to his feet and surveyed the bloody mess on the ground all around them. "Right, you lot, I want all this removed, every last trace of blood, hair, scent, anything that might indicate there was an incident here, understood? Our lives and safety depend on this kill site never being discovered by anyone, Dark or Light. What about the children? What can we do about them? Their families must be going insane with worry."

"Let me get photographs of them, and I will give them to my contacts, see if they can be identified. If you get Tobias to send me a photo of the boys, I'll try and get them identified too, then we can decide what to do about them," Remus volunteered with a heavy heart.

"Good plan. Gorum, come here, my friend. Are you alright, are you hurt at all?"

The simple man was still sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, but he appeared to be unhurt physically. "That girl, Jilly, say me not to hurt her, then say me not to leave or he kill her. I say no, I look after but I diddn'! I diddn'!" He wailed aloud, the noise more like a howl than a human cry.

Both Remus and Jon sighed sadly, patting and stroking the bowed head, trying to reassure him he had done the right thing but the man was inconsolable. "Gorum, Fenrir was a very bad man, very bad wolf, a rogue. You could not have even thought he would hurt a cub, never even dreamed of such a terrible thing, so how could you possibly stop it? You did your best, that's all you can do and your best has saved two little boys from being eaten alive by Fenrir's horrible perversions. One of the boys is a Muggle, Gorum, you know what that means, don't you?"

The man's eyes widened in horror, and he covered his mouth as if to stop the terrible truth from escaping.

"That's right, Fenrir was creating Muggle werewolves, so he could let them free in both human and wolf society. The girl is a Muggle too, Gorum, so you didn't do a bad thing, you simply stopped her from becoming a real monster. If she had known what was going to happen to her, do you think she would have liked to stay alive and face that?"

"No," Gorum said firmly.

"Right, so stop blaming yourself, okay?" Jon and Remus exchanged long, sad looks over the bowed head of their simple pack member before Remus carefully and completely transfigured the two children into rocks, picking them up and presenting them to Gorum. "You find a nice place for them to be for the rest of their time, how's that?"

Gorum accepted the charge and nodded sadly. "You take me home, now?" he asked of Remus who nodded and offered his arm to apparate the simple wolf away.

oo0oo

"Morgenstern, the Pittwater brothers, Dalgettie and Alba Mulciber have disappeared completely off the face of the earth, not to mention my pet wolf Greyback," Lord Voldemort mused quietly as he studied the fire, never looking up at the audience which had suddenly frozen in place. "It is very odd that, when they all go to a meeting with each other, they do not return and there is no trace of them anywhere."

Everyone looked around wildly, hoping against hope that someone else might answer.

"Perhaps Greyback finally lost it and disposed of them carefully." The voice was rusty and hoarse, but it made the Dark Lord smile slightly as he turned and looked across at the darker pool of blackness near the door. The shadows moved and a pale face seemed to float into the circle of light shed by the fire, the rest of the congregation falling back hurriedly. "Ah, Severus, I am surprised to see you so soon."

"I am hard to eliminate," he muttered, moving very slowly and carefully.

The Lord bowed ironically as his lieutenant moved into place at his right hand as usual. "What do you know of Greyback's disappearance?"

"Factually, nothing. I have been somewhat _indisposed_ these last few weeks, if you recall. I may speculate, basing some of that speculation on knowledge of the werewolf and his usual practices. It is common knowledge that Greyback preys on human flesh, usually young children; whether Muggle or Wizard doesn't seem to make much difference to his appetite. He has been known to take what he can get whenever he can get it and, if any of the others were injured or killed, I would assume he had, er, 'disposed of the remains thoughtfully'? However, since he has also disappeared, I would direct an inquiry to the Ministry and see if there are any new werewolf ingredients being processed. After all, if he was caught in the act, so to speak, they may have executed him and used his carcass to boost supplies."

The Lord sank his chin onto his chest thoughtfully, then sighed. "It has merit. Wormtail! Have you anything to tell me?"

There was a stir near the Lord's feet, and the fat, sweating Wormtail crawled out of the dark near the fireplace and fawned at his Master's knees, his silver hand flashing momentarily in the firelight. "Master, the werewolves tore the Death Eaters to pieces and the so-called Alpha of the British Isles took Greyback apart, then they all cleaned up the site and apparated away," Wormtail reported with a sly look at Snape.

"Pity," Severus sniffed softly.

"And why is that, my Severus?" the Lord asked in faint amusement.

"I have need of some werewolf parts and could have used the carcass," Severus replied indifferently.

"Ah, Severus, you never fail to amuse me. So, the werewolves have declared for the Light, have they?" His red eyes pinned Wormtail to the hearth rug.

"My Lord, they have declared for the Werewolf Nation." Wormtail cringed even lower as the Lord's eyes flashed in displeasure. "The Alpha told them all to stay neutral and to avoid any conflict with anyone, Dark or Light."

"Damn that fool! Severus, there is a werewolf you can make into any potion you like, if you can catch him," the Lord snarled, turning back to the fireplace. "Leave us! Lucius, stay."

The court removed themselves, some faster than others, Severus the last to depart. He shot Lucius an inquiring look as they passed, but Lucius only shrugged almost imperceptibly as he closed the door behind the Potions Master.

In the silence that followed the final departure, the Lord sighed then turned to pin Lucius to the spot. "The Ministry have been prying into things that do not concern them. They have taken a certain artefact from the place where I left it and hidden it in the Ministry building, probably somewhere in the Department of Mysteries. I want it back, intact and unharmed, no matter what the cost. Do you understand me?"

Lucius bowed low as the Dark Lord apparated away, an image of the object embedded deep in his mind like a poisoned dart.


	22. Christmas

**Author's Note:** I hate Christmas, just so you know, not in the 'bah humbug' sense but in the sense of 'we're not talking to our Joan because of what she said about our Sharon four years ago'. We all have expectations of Christmas which are rarely met but then, something else can come and take their place which makes the day almost worthwhile.

**Chapter 21** – _Christmas_

Roger hated Christmas, hated the artificial cheer, the forced bonhomie, and most of all he hated the round of dutiful family visits he had been forced to endure as a child. In his earliest memories it had been a sparkly, exciting time of laughter and love and wonderful excitement that he couldn't quite catch, but then his Mother had decided she had to be free. For his mother, leaving the family home and taking her own life in hand, living the way a witch of means was supposed to live was probably wonderful. For a small, scared little boy it was terrifying!

Being independently wealthy had a few rather obvious advantages, and Ayalindan Podmore took full advantage of the privilege. She bought a huge old house in Bath and gave parties every couple of weeks, she reverted to her maiden name of Podmore and made sure Roger did the same, although he was too young to realise it at the time. Christmas, like most other holidays, became a time of debauched witches and wizards spending most of Christmas Eve drinking themselves into oblivion, then all of Christmas Day telling him to bugger off while they were ill. He became very adept at fetching the stomach potions and headache brews, sliding buckets under heaving heads and banishing mess with his mother's wand.

That was when his mother decided that Roger Podmore would become the best damned doctor in St Mungo's, the best damned doctor the Wizarding world had ever seen! Of course, her circle of cronies and hangers-on took the suggestion and ran with it. Books on healing spells, books of folk remedies, odd looking Muggle doctor and nurse kits appeared, and on one very memorable occasion a real cadaver for him to practice on. It was sickening.

Only one very sincere and very self-effacing suitor ever saw past the loudly trumpeted hype his mother put out to what Roger really wanted. For that Christmas, when he was eleven, he received a contribution to his educational fund from Ruben Shabatt to impress the crowd. Quietly, under his pillow that night, he found a modest little package containing an electronics kit with wonderful resistors, batteries, wires and connectors and an instructional book that was titled 'A Hundred Things For Boys To Do With Electricity'. He loved that set and spent hours building crystal radios and hand-wound generators until his mother found it and threw it out.

Christmas at Durmstrang hadn't been much better as he'd had to go home on his mother's insistence. For some reason she felt that Durmstrang offered more scope for continental polish than Hogwarts, and so he had dutifully gone there, earned grades as high as he was capable of and eventually been accepted to St Mungo's as a trainee. There he thought he would finally be free of the round of forced gaiety and drinking, but he was wrong - the medical students were even worse if anything!

As it turned out, he was a good doctor, learning early in the training that he was very adept at healing trauma wounds, physical cuts, bruises and broken bones. Oh, he could treat magical maladies as well as the next medi-wizard, but physical wounds seemed to respond better and heal faster if he treated them. Such ability was always recognised and rewarded, other students courting his favour and hoping some of his technique would rub off on them, not that he used any special techniques, just did what he was taught but he did it better than anyone else. If he hadn't been so used to the cronyism that his mother's friends had taught him to recognise early in his life, he could have been overwhelmed by the attention.

He did meet one young woman during his third year, a young Scottish lass who came to St Mungo's to polish her techniques after finishing her training in the Edinburgh Hospital. Poppy Cornet was a paediatric medi-witch with a great deal of skill and native common sense. They became friends after Poppy was assigned to him on her first day to learn his secrets with wounds and breaks. She was fun, lively and seriously dedicated to her art and her fiancé Sam Pomfrey who worked at Ollivander's as a wand technician.

When Sam and Poppy were married, he gave them a reception at the flat his mother had bought for him in the heart of London. They had looked so young and happy as they ran under the rice shower their laughing cheering friends threw up in the air. Even the reception had been a successful event, catered by the best in London and coordinated by a professional who owed both Roger and his mother favours.

Eighteen months later Poppy had turned up in St Mungo's while Roger had been doing a maternity stretch, much to both their embarrassment. Still young Miss Clara Jean Pomfrey was not to be denied entry to the world, certainly not to her mother's convenience, and as Roger was the medi-wizard on duty to him fell the task of ushering her in, all seven pounds of red, wrinkled, adored wails and flailing fists. Both Sam and Poppy thought she was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen and who was he to argue, even though he thought she looked like a little pink piglet.

Not eight months later, he wished to God she still looked like a little pink piglet instead of a pale purpling corpse beside that of her father on a back street near Diagon Alley. As a trauma specialist he had been overworked and underpaid since the Death Eater party had begun its random killing sprees, but these two people were his friends and that made it very personal. It shattered him in a way he had never understood before, and he wondered how Poppy could possibly walk around under the burden of her loss and yet she did. It took a long time but eventually she came to visit him and told him she had been accepted at Hogwarts School as their resident medi-witch. If her own child had been sacrificed, she would do everything in her considerable power to keep other peoples' children safe from harm.

It was through Poppy that Roger learned of the Order of the Phoenix. He had agreed to go and visit her in her Scottish castle once Voldemort was vanquished and his services were no longer in constant demand. Escorting her to one of the school functions was not an onerous task, he assured her with a laughing bow. He headed out for the village for the whole weekend when he was both officially and unofficially off duty. Poppy introduced him to her headmaster, who was called Albus Dumbledore and very much involved in the fight to defeat Voldemort. Both men got on quite well together although they did not have a great deal of time to make small talk. While Roger agreed with the cause, he was more interested in saving lives than fighting the fight and never actually joined the Order in the first war.

After Voldemort's death, Roger had done the unthinkable and applied to a Muggle hospital to be trained in the Muggle way of medicine. He felt it complimented his current knowledge and was correct in his assumption. Trauma surgery in a Muggle hospital was bloody, complicated and very hard work, but it was totally fascinating! For a number of years he remained at the Muggle hospital as well as serving at St Mungo's, keeping a foot in both camps, so to speak, as he perfected his ability to merge the two types of medicine into a seamless whole.

By chance he ran into a fellow called Arthur Weasley, not a week after Poppy alerted him to Voldemort's return, who had been attacked by a magical snake or some such creature that left him torn and bleeding. The wounds did not respond to magical treatment and so Roger was brought in to use his unusual knowledge of Muggle medicine to actually stitch the wounds together in an attempt to stop Arthur bleeding to death. Fortunately it worked and Arthur got better. He was so pleased with the results of his treatment, he introduced Roger to his equally grateful wife and family, and so a new and very strong friendship was born.

Through Arthur and Molly, he had been saved when the Death Eater attacks began again and he was caught up in a raid on St Mungo's. Arthur, good friend that he was, had risked a lot to get Roger out of the hospital while under fire and had brought him to 12 Grimmauld Place for treatment at his old friend Poppy's hands, and so began Roger's involvement with the Order of the Phoenix and the fight against You-Know-Who. A very personal fight it turned out to be as the war ground on and the numbers of his friends and companions dwindled as more and more people were killed by the fanatics in the white masks.

Albus Dumbledore always treated him with friendly respect and a good humour, listening to his contributions and ideas with a grave air of interest. They grew to respect each other's ideas, and a friendship of sorts sprang up between them. Sometimes he felt as if he should know Albus or that he had met him before but couldn't think where or when. He would have forgotten about his odd reaction if his mother had not exploded when he mentioned the Dumbledore name. As it was, she paled, turned bright scarlet, paled again then let loose with a string of curses and vilification that was enough to blister paint at ten yards. She even forbade him to ever mention the man's name in her house ever again, or else he was not to darken the doors until he disassociated himself from the devil incarnate!

When Roger mentioned his mother's reaction to Albus in a laughing aside, he was quite shocked when the older man turned pale also. "I think," Albus said hesitantly, almost in terror, "that I might be your father." It was a shocking revelation and one neither could confirm without his mother's acknowledgement, but she refused to speak to either man on the subject.

By judicious inquiry and a dinner date or two with the records clerk, Roger managed to infiltrate the St Mungo's birth records and discovered he was indeed the son of Albus and Ayalindan Dumbledore, it said so in black and white. He could hardly believe that he had known Albus for more than ten years and had never felt more for him that any other casual acquaintance, no instant recognition of family, no up-welling of finer feelings.

Albus had been equally startled by the news, but when Roger demanded to know why he had never made a move to find his son, Albus had sighed deeply. "Your mother had made it very clear that she would _Obliviate_ you if I tried to find you or made any move to reclaim you. Your mother is a stubborn witch as you very well know, and she would have carried out her threat with never a qualm. Then, as the years passed, the ache faded, the pains dulled and gradually passed until – and please forgive me for saying this – I forgot I ever had a child for long stretches at a time. I had a school full of children to care for and they helped, yes, they helped fill the gap left by your absence. Time does heal all wounds and forty-five years is a lot of time, Roger, a lifetime almost."

It had taken some time to accept the sadly spoken words, but eventually the two men had managed to rebuild their friendship although they were never very close. When Roger heard that Dumbledore had been killed he was shocked and saddened but certainly not devastated by the loss. Oddly enough, his mother had taken the blow much harder than he had, sobbing her heart out and wailing miserably in a dramatic outpouring of grief. All Roger was thankful for was that the Daily Prophet, in its complete and overblown coverage of the event, had not managed to get hold of his mother for an interview. They had not discovered his relationship to the dead man and therefore he was spared the indignity of having to publicly acknowledge that he was the son of a Great and Wonderful Man, when he knew Albus Dumbledore was a very human and fallible man, but he did miss his friend.

oo0oo

Christmas morning dawned cold and dark, a wind-driven sleet lashing the city and driving damp coldness into every unprotected nook and cranny. A record number of Muggles perished that Christmas from cold and inadequate clothing or lack of heating, more than even a Dark Lord could chalk up in all his wickedness. Charity groups prepared a record number of meals and housed a record number of homeless for the Christmas season.

However, at Grimmauld Place, there was turkey and goose to roast and vegetables to boil and bake, all pre-prepared by Molly the night before but her heart was not in it as she stumped down to the kitchen and stoked the fire in the hearth. The bread was risen, the pastry rested, but the thought of making mince pies and Christmas gingerbread made her cry sad tears, no joy to be had this year.

Arthur enfolded her in a heart-easing hug when he found her weeping into her apron at the scrubbed table.

"I want my boys back, Arthur; I want them young enough to believe in Santa and play silly pranks on each other and look up in wonder at the twinkling of the Christmas tree lights. I want to turn back time and hold those days close and fresh again."

"Ah, Lass, you're breaking my heart," Arthur murmured into her hair, holding her close and trying to muffle her words against his shoulder. "If I could do it for you, you know I would," he told her miserably.

"Yes, I know, I know, I'm just being silly, love. I have a gift for you, just a little thing," she murmured, wiping her eyes and half laughing at her own silliness. "There now, I'm all better again," she assured him as she fished in her pocket and pulled out the parcel wrapped in a colourful Christmas print paper.

Arthur studied the three new plugs with a happy smile, knowing his Molly did not approve of his collection but she still bought him new things to add to it. She seemed delighted in the new knitting organiser he had bought for her, with its many compartments and handy pockets. Gifts exchanged, they shared a cup of tea, then Arthur offered his services as kitchen hand as Molly decided perhaps she could face cooking a Christmas feast after all.

oo0oo

The Christmas dinner was enormous, more food than the table could hold. Even Arthur seemed astonished by the amount of dishes his wife had produced, and he had seen her cook on more occasions than he liked to think about. He was wondering seriously what he was going to do with so much bounty when the door creaked open and Remus appeared a sheepish smile on his face. He was quickly followed by Tonks and Shacklebolt with his young wife and small daughter in tow. Then Moody and Evantine and one by one all the members of the Order assembled at the table Molly had laid, their joint experience and shared hopes lifting the mood to something approaching jolly as the evening progressed. Roger had never had such a meaningful Christmas in all his life, no false bonhomie, but a genuine caring and sharing, comrades-at-arms driving off the Darkness in their shared celebration of life.

Finally, when the groaning tables had been reduced to groaning diners, Arthur rose and lifted his glass of port, an expectant silence falling over the table as all turned to listen to his words. "I'm not much for speeches, just an ordinary sort of wizard, but I would like to say this: We, Molly and I, were dreading this day when those we had lost would be so sorely missed. Again and again we have all lost people, friends, relatives, loved ones and comrades, again and again we wonder why we do it, but then I look around this table and I see so many reasons to keep on fighting and trying and, by Merlin, winning this stupid, stupid war. Thank you for coming and thank you for being our friends and offering the support we all so desperately needed this day. To you all, our friends."

"To friends," the assembly chorused back, raising their glasses although there were many damp eyes and surreptitious sniffles. To lighten the mood, Tonks turned the radio to the Wizarding Wireless Service and picked up some music that set feet tapping. A wave of wands sent the dishes to take care of themselves and the leftovers to the cupboard, and Arthur bowed to his wife, leading her out onto the floor. Kingsley bowed to his wife and twirled her into a waltz, while Tonks bowed to Remus and they too took to the dance, Tonks giggling and laughing when she tripped and all that stood between her and disaster was Remus' hold on her waist.

Sadness dispelled, they were all thoroughly enjoying the evening when the front door creaked open and a cloaked and hooded figure came in, in a flurry of cold sleet and wind. Instantly, wands were out, curses at the ready as the figure came further into the light and carefully eased the wet, snowy hood from his head.

"Merry Christmas everyone," he said with a wry smile then laughed infectiously as Molly threw herself forward with a cry of sheer delight.

"Charlie! Oh, Charlie, you came! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Have you eaten? Your hands are freezing! Oh Charlie, oh…" Laughing and crying, Molly drew her second oldest child into a tight, thankful hug and hurried him over to the fire to get warm.

Charlie grinned over her head and offered a hand to his father, the same happy smile carving both faces. "A very merry Christmas indeed," Arthur agreed thankfully.

In canon, this is Augustus Pye


	23. Like a Double Naught Spy

**Chapter 22** – _Like a Double Naught Spy_

Eight weeks of training in eight weeks, eight weeks of study in eight weeks, it didn't sound too bad when it was said like that, but in actual fact, the whole class was exhausted! A couple of the teachers who were not part of the training conspiracy remarked that it was a good thing the Christmas holidays were almost upon them as half the NEWTs class seemed to be in desperate need of a rest.

"Little do they know," Hermione sighed, scrubbing her face as she stretched. "Our next schedule includes one year in one week! We are leading a double life in the best traditions of Ian Fleming."

"'_Like a double naught spy',_" Dean quoted in a twangy accent that made the wizardborn stare at him as if he had lost the plot and the Muggleborns giggle uncontrollably. Seeing the puzzled looks, he grinned. "Jethro Clampett, the Beverly Hillbillies," he clarified, but most were none the wiser. "Forget it, you had to be there. So what's next on our very exciting, undercover agenda?"

"Okay," Harry announced, glancing around, "we go in on the first of January at eight am and come out on the eighth of January at four pm. Pack for a year, and bring lots of casual clothes, we won't be needing school robes as Professor Moody will provide trainee uniforms and gear."

"At least we get to have Christmas with the family," Dean murmured, but was shot down when Seamus reminded him that none of them were going home this year as it was too dangerous.

Molly and Arthur had asked if their children and Harry could come to Grimmauld Place for Christmas, but after a lot of thought and soul searching they had rescinded the invitation and insisted the children stay at Hogwarts where they would be safe and protected, which was a pity when Charlie managed to make it back to Britain for Christmas with his parents.

Christmas was a subdued affair at Hogwarts although the owls that arrived were laden with presents and good wishes for the holiday. Many of the children had taken advantage of the floo system and been escorted home, but many were still at the school; the teachers made as much celebration as they could. The Christmas tree in the main hall was huge and glittering with baubles and streamers, Christmas crackers abounded with gifts and novelties that were superior to most others, wizard or Muggle.

Ron played with a little puzzle that changed every time he tried to do it, a legacy from his brothers and heavy with memories of the twins and their obsessive quest for bigger, better pranks and jokes. Ginny wrapped her arms around him from behind and the siblings shared the bittersweet memories of years gone past. "I hated it when they played their tricks on me, but what I would give for just one more..."

"Hush, Ron, it's as it is and there's no going back," Ginny counselled, sniffing hard before chuckling waterily. "Remember the time they were inventing the portable swamp and it ran down the stairs into Mum's kitchen?"

"And a frog landed in the stew Mum had simmering…" They both burst out laughing, the sadness dispelled for another time.

New Year saw most of the students resigned if not happy to be still at the school, the teachers having arranged a number of activities such as sleigh rides and ice skating on the edge of the lake. In fact, the number and variety of winter sports and pleasures was so great that no one really missed the twenty students that disappeared early in the morning on the first of January.

oo0oo

"Right, you lot, form up and listen up," Professor Moody bellowed as the class assembled in the main body of the Room of Requirement. "We are going to start with the basics of Auror training, a continuation of the studies you have been taking piecemeal over the last few months. Various professors and professionals have taken a few days out of their heavy schedules to come and share their wisdom with you, so you better listen carefully, learn quickly and don't forget anything you are taught. Since there will be no weekend passes, sick days or days off to visit your ageing grannies, we are all going onto an accelerated programme which means you are going to have to put a little effort into it. Got that?"

There was an uneasy stir amongst the class, but it didn't have time to get any deeper as the door opened and a slight shabby figure slunk in, hiding in the shadows. Harry narrowed his eyes but couldn't really make out who it was until Moody made an impatient noise and beckoned imperiously. A very familiar figure came forward nervously to stand beside Moody, his hands moving restlessly in the fold of his robes.

"You all know Professor Lupin, or you should do. You may not know that Remus is also acting head of the Order of the Phoenix now that Dumbledore is no longer with us. He will be teaching you some real Defence against the Dark Arts while you are in here, not the kiddie class stuff you get in lessons. He will also be teaching you some battlefield healing spells and techniques to try and keep you alive long enough to get serious help. Any questions?"

There were none, so Alastor turned to the other side of the room and snorted softly, then grinned as a cat arrived from out of the depths of an arm chair, wound its way around Remus' ankles then transfigured into Headmistress McGonagall wearing form-fitting battle robes that made her look anything but the strict and fussy spinster teacher she usually presented to the world. She smirked at the soft murmur of surprise that went through the young men and women before her.

"Minerva McGonagall is our transfigurations, stealth and concealment specialist; also a member of the Order of the Phoenix. While it takes a special sort of mind to learn the skills of an animagus, the techniques in their less rugged form are often employed to hide wizards or witches in plain sight, helping them blend with their surroundings. No, Mr Thomas, not the Disillusionment spell, it is something much more complex and yet much simpler than that, also much, much harder to detect."

While Moody had been talking, the headmistress had vanished away without any of them noticing, making Remus smile and Moody laugh at the astonishment of the students.

"So that's how she always knows what you've been up to," Ron muttered out the side of his mouth to Harry who winced when Remus cocked his head and grinned at Ron. "I think he heard me."

"Yes, I did, Ron, no need to hide the fact that werewolves have extremely good hearing anymore," Remus replied and shrugged. "In point of fact, werewolves are stronger, faster, have keener senses, more endurance and more resilience to magic than the normal human, which makes us both hard to control and very scary to the Ministry. However, the Alpha has decreed that I am to assist in your training and hopefully help improve your ability to cope with the rigours of war."

"So, we three will be your teachers for the first part of the year, and around about our 'July' we will be joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt who will be teaching you physical defence and improving your fitness and endurance. We hope that Professor Snape will also be able to join us for a short time as his skills with potions and Defence against the Dark Arts as well as his insight into the workings of the Dark Lord's mind and organisation will be invaluable. Any questions?"

Hermione put her hand up immediately, making Remus smile and Alastor huff. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"When we were here for just the week there were a lot of books and texts in the library that were not available outside this room. Are they still here and will we have time to study them?"

"Yes to both questions. Research, inquiry and book bashing are all a part of the Auror's daily grind, so there will be some training on how to read a book, how to get the information you want, and there will also be some sessions on strategy, tactics and the handling of people in groups and as individuals. There will also be a course on interrogation methods, ethics and law but only the basics at this point. With a bit of luck we can drag you through the complete first year's training and well into the second year before we have to return to the real world again. So, shall we begin?"

oo0oo

Ginny grinned at the defeated Malfoy just before a hex from Finnigan took out her knees and landed her on the floor in a heap. It was lucky as a hex from behind missed all but the tip of her ponytail, turning it into spider webs before it smacked Seamus in the chest and thoroughly entangled him in the web. A counter curse removed the spider webs from Ginny's hair as Hermione was dashing past, blasting the ambush to pieces as the two girls arrived at the heart of the boys' territory. Hermione grabbed the cup that was the object of the battle and froze, making a disgusted noise, as the Gorgon spell in the cup took hold, turning her fingers into stone and creeping up her arm. Emily made an impatient noise and tapped the tide with her wand, stilling it and turning it even as Ginny guarded the two young women, blasting Crabbe out of his hiding place near the far wall. As soon as the cup was free, all three girls began their retreat, only to run into Harry and Ron who made a spirited attempt to retrieve the prize but ran afoul of Hannah who felled them both with a neat _J__ellylegs._

Bursting free of the boys' 'headquarters' the girls managed to make it all the way home and plant the cup firmly on their home pedestal, cheering all the way until the pedestal transformed into a grinning Terry Boot who tossed it back to Ernie who fled with it, only to be felled by the Patil twins and lose the cup again. Guarding each other's backs they made it all the way back to 'headquarters' where Hermione had located the real pedestal. Five seconds later they planted the cup firmly, and the chimes rang out to signal the end of the exercise.

Gasping and panting, the members of the Auror training class emerged from their various hiding places, those who had been 'killed' grumbling as they were freed from the holding spell that ensured they could not miraculously come back to life again. Remus and Minerva surveyed the battered and exhausted crew and grinned widely, pleased with how far they had all come over the past few months. Every day in every way they were getting stronger, faster and sneakier.

"So, what did you learn today?" Remus asked, hitching a hip onto the edge of the desk and grinning at the red faced, sweaty assembly.

"Look behind you!"

"Don't trust boys!"

"Girls are not gentle creatures."

"It's not over until the fat lady sings."

There was a collection of 'huhs' and giggles, but Justin merely shrugged and smiled tiredly, licking a real cut on his forearm. Emily rolled on one hip, pointed her wand and healed it without a thought or a murmur before swinging back to the front. Minerva nodded approval as various members of their intrepid group performed those small acts of kindness without a thought these days. Even Malfoy had totally integrated, taking his share of the work as well as the responsibility without too many grumbles.

"Would you like to clarify that remark, Mr **Finch-Fletchley?" Remus asked, bringing Minerva's mind back to the task at hand.**

**"It was something Terry said actually, about not taking the last second for granted. Just because you think you have won doesn't mean you really have won until you can prove it, if you see what I mean. Like the pedestal thing. It would have been more effective if Terry had stayed transfigured until the girls had left him alone and then had sneaked away with the cup rather than just bolting."**

**"Well done, good reasoning," Remus congratulated. "So, debriefing. Team leaders take your teams and analyse the strategies you came up with, what was done to counteract them and how you would react if that situation came up again. Put a report together for us, then analyse your opponents' strategies, strengths and weaknesses and see if you can draw some conclusions about the other side's possible tactics in the future."**

Remus watched as the class helped each other up and they all wandered off to the showers, then to the cosy inglenooks of soft furnishings the Room of Requirement provided. Minerva rose too and laughed as Remus rolled his shoulders, making his neck crack loudly in the sudden silence.

"How are you holding up?" she asked as he blinked in surprise.

"Excellently," Remus replied enthusiastically. "Do you realise this is the first time in my life that I haven't transformed once a month since I was too young to remember? It takes a lot of energy to change and change back so the rest has been fantastic. Even those muscles that never fully healed have been repaired and fixed, and that broken rib has finally healed fully and properly after four years of constant nagging ache. I wish I could stay the full year, but…"

"Remus, you can. I know you don't want to see Severus, but perhaps it would be best to confront him here in the privacy of this place than in the public gaze of an Order meeting. Severus may not remember anything about what happened between you, and he may not even react to your presence at all. So, it will be up to you to decide how to act and behave toward him, how better than here in the Room of Requirement."

"Perhaps… no, not perhaps; of course, you are right," Remus sighed then chuckled. "Alright, I'll stay on. Kingsley can use me as a demonstration partner for his flips and kicks, I'm tough."

Minerva laughed and agreed before going off to see what the house-elves were bringing them for dinner.

oo0oo

Kingsley Shacklebolt was sceptical that he was coming to Hogwarts for anything except a six-month stint of training. Oh, he had heard all about the Room of Requirement from Minerva, but he could not really believe it was so. As he entered the small antechamber, a powerful spell caught him and he felt dizzy for a few seconds. Grabbing the handle, he surged into the room but there was no one there, just a bare open room with a padded mat area in one corner and some very nice gym equipment at the other side.

With his duffle over his shoulder, he strode across the room and threw open the far door, startling the four girls sitting huddled over a huge old tome. He recognised Hermione Granger straight away as well as Ginny Weasley, both girls smiling slightly nervously at his abrupt entrance. Before he could speak, another door opened and Minerva McGonagall came in, holding out a hand in greeting.

"Kingsley, it's good to see you again, how are you? How is the weather on the outside?"

"It's snowing of course, and I am fine. I like the gym setup out there; it's very good."

"We have a gym now? I wondered about that. Excellent. Remus is going to stay on and be your training partner, he's resilient enough to bear up."

Kingsley looked sceptical until Remus himself came in, then the Auror had to believe they had been in the room for six months their time; Remus looked well. When last Kingsley had seen the acting Head of the Order, he looked thin-drawn and as exhausted as an old man. Now he looked much more his age -- fit, happy and full of sparkle as he came forward and shook hands with a grin.

"Good to see you again, Kingsley, ready for some intensive training? The boys and girls are raring to go, and I think they will come to appreciate your skills, once they get over the initial set of bruises and sprains." Remus grinned as a chorus of groans came from behind where the rest of the class had assembled.

Acknowledging the group, Kingsley allowed himself to be ushered into a small dining room where lunch was already set upon the table. It was Sunday in the Room of Requirement, so he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the company of the lively group, studying the dynamics and getting a feel for his new students. Remus came across and lounged untidily in a chair, not at all the controlled and very self-effacing man he had always been, obviously very comfortable with the group. Shacklebolt accepted the bottle of butterbeer Remus held out to him, taking a sip and nodding approval.

"Anything to report from the outside?" Remus asked after a few moments of quiet contemplation.

"Not much, some vague rumours about another attack on the Ministry, but nothing firm or even confirmable by a second source. There are also rumours that Scrimgeour has managed to capture something very important to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but he is not saying anything at all."

Remus scratched behind his ear thoughtfully, then sighed before taking a sip of his beer. "Can't think of anything that important unless… nah, we would have heard if he had taken a Horcrux. After all, there are only two left to locate, aren't there?"

"We believe so," Shacklebolt confirmed before both men went back to contemplating the fire.

oo0oo

"What have you there?" Malfoy asked, sliding in beside Hermione and looking over her shoulder at the old Muggle book in her lap.

She blushed slightly and then smiled up at him before snuggling into the curve of his shoulder. "It's a book of fairytales my parents gave to me years ago. I was just thinking about them."

Draco glanced at the colourful picture and snorted at the depiction of the dwarves surrounding a glass coffin, caps in hand. "Looks like someone took a Living Death potion and was encased in a Timeless Bier." He chuckled, leaning forward to turn the page but was stopped by Hermione's hand.

"Say that again, Malfoy?" she insisted, turning as best she could to stare at him intently.

"When did I get to be Malfoy again?" Draco asked with a pout but obligingly repeated his remark, expanding on it when his girlfriend demanded clarification. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, it's only a myth. Okay, okay," he conceded with a put-on huff as more of the students turned to listen to them.

"Once upon a time there was a Pureblood lady whose Father and Mother had contracted her to a Scion of another Pureblood family. She hated her affianced husband who was a spoilt and mediocre fool, incapable of furthering the family fortune and unworthy of the position of Head of Family. His younger brother was much more suitable to the role, being intelligent, ambitious and cunning; a powerful wizard in his own right. Together they concocted a plan that involved the Lady's apparent murder by the hands of her new husband at the wedding feast. This would negate the wedding contract and free her from obligation to him. His brother would then be able to challenge him for the position of Head of Family with a clear conscience. To clear the way, the pair created a spell called the Timeless Bier, a stasis field where time was stopped until the spell was broken with the key. The plan was duly put into motion; the Lady took the potion and fell down 'dead' at her bridegroom's feet. The younger brother immediately accused him of murdering the girl to take control of her inheritance and put her into the Timeless Bier before any further investigation could take place. Of course, her parents were outraged and insisted on a duel being fought to prove one side of the story or the other. Well, the Head of Family was neither as stupid nor as heedless as his brother assumed and immediately appointed himself a Champion as was his right. The younger brother lost and was killed in his turn, and the Head of Family had a long, profitable reign over the Family fortunes until he too died and his only son took over as Head of Family." Malfoy grinned at the circle of intent faces he had gathered around him as he told the fairy story.

"But what about the girl? What happened to her was she the mother of the Heir?" Lavender demanded breathlessly.

"Nothing happened to her. When the younger brother was killed the key to the spell was lost, and so the elder brother set her up in the Great Hall as a warning to all those who saw her. Be careful what you wish for, you might get it!"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "What sort of key was it, Malfoy? What did it look like?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter, it's a _fairy story_, how would I know?" he protested in exasperation.

"What did the stasis field look like?" Ron asked almost in the same breath, leaning forward eagerly.

Malfoy humphed in disgust, but surprisingly it was Crabbe that answered. "Can look like anything, glass, stone, flowers, just empty air. Or at least that's what my Nanny used to tell me."

"Could it look like marble?" Harry pursued relentlessly, turning to the hulking boy who scratched his head in thought.

"I suppose so, or gold or wood, anything."

"Looks like you have a project, Hermione," Harry said, with a grin from ear to ear.

"Me? Why me? Malfoy can help as it is his story after all," she said primly making Malfoy yowl in disgust. "It won't kill you to do a little extra curricular reading, you lazy beast," she said firmly over all his protests and everyone's laughter. "Now, how do we go about tracking down the roots of a fairy story?"

"Start with the Family Books of History, I would assume," Malfoy said in resignation as he followed her out.

Ron and Harry grinned at each other as Ginny pulled out the notebook and scribbled a note next to the prophecy Hermione had scribed in her very neat handwriting.

_From Elder Snake to Younger Lion_ (From Snape to Harry?)

_In marble cold, holds the timeless bier_ (Check fairytale, is the necklace a key?)

_Come __to__ the Blood, through Fire rising,_

_The Phoenix __shall give up its eld__."_


	24. KungFu Fighting

**Chapter 23** – _Kung-Fu Fighting_

Kingsley was a powerfully built man, the muscle rippling across his shoulders under his form-fitting athletics shirt. With his shaven head and golden earring he looked tough and mean as he lectured the group on the various exercises they would be learning. This was the second week of lectures about muscle groups, types of joints, physiology and nutrition, anything except how to actually defend themselves physically. Ron was doing his best not to snore, and Harry was picking at his fingernails until Hermione slapped him. The rest of the class were in no better straights as the boring lecture ground on. Even the novelty of having such nice eye-candy lecturing them had worn off for the girls; everyone agreed that this was as bad as Binns' lectures.

"I'm losing them," Kingsley complained quietly to Remus after a particularly embarrassing snore had woken Ron up in class.

Remus grinned. "Probably because you are so boring you could put a Boggart to sleep," he teased and laughed aloud at Kingsley's rueful agreement. "Look, these kids are active and healthy; they play Quidditch, run obstacle courses, and I believe Hermione Granger has been teaching them yoga. Forget feeding them buckets of theory, just get them up and using the muscle groups you have been talking about. Mix theory and practice in a sensible ratio."

"I'm not sure how you mean," Shacklebolt sighed, picking at his lunch.

"Alright, let me give the lecture this afternoon and see how it goes."

"Fine by me," the Auror agreed eagerly.

When Remus strolled into the gym that afternoon, there were a few double takes and even a wolf-whistle which made him blush a little. He looked rather small beside Kingsley, but he had certainly filled out over the last 'six months'. "Alright, settle down people. We're going to try a little practical training as well as some theory. Spines, what are they good for?"

In seconds the class was up on its feet bending and stretching, seeing how far the spinal column could move before it became uncomfortable. The limits of the joints were quickly reached and absolutely understood by everyone in a very few minutes, even Shacklebolt agreeing that it was well demonstrated.

"Now, what happens if you over-bend? If you purposely force the spine to bend further than its limits?" Remus asked, cocking his head to stare at them all. "Yes, Harry?"

"Depending on where it breaks paraplegia or quadriplegia, or death."

"Very good, bend too far forward and you break, bend too far back and you break, bend the wrong part and you break. So, defence first. Now, how would you protect your spine from a fall? Show them, Kingsley."

The group practiced breaking their falls, cushioning charms and transfiguration of objects to assist in the breaking of falls. There were a couple of crunches but no really serious accidents as the class laughed, rolled and tumbled through the exercises. Finally, Remus called them all to order and allowed them to loll around on the practice mats to get their breath back.

"Good, now landing is all very well, but what happens if you get tossed or if you try to toss someone and end up flipping instead? Would you use the same sort of technique or do you think there is a different one?"

"Probably similar but you would have to be quicker as you would likely be moving quicker through the air," Malfoy said thoughtfully, tapping his front teeth with a forefinger. Amazingly he still looked fresh and neat even though he really had been falling and joining in the exercises wholeheartedly.

"Good call. Now Kingsley is going to toss me and you lot watch as I land, note how I hit the ground and roll. Ready, Kingsley, let's do it."

They demonstrated the technique, Remus arcing through the air and slamming his hands down hard before his body landed and rolled. Everyone winced as a puff of dust lifted off the mat on impact. After a second demonstration, everyone was paired up and set to throwing and landing while Kingsley and Remus moved around correcting techniques and methods. When Ron failed to toss Crabbe, the heavier boy simply grinned until Remus threw him easily. When Harry and Malfoy got a little too enthusiastic with each other, Kingsley stepped in and tossed them both easily.

oo0oo

By the end of the first month of unarmed combat training the students were growing rather more competent, no matter what the pairing. Kingsley had taken Remus' first lesson to heart and was quick to adapt the usual Auror training manuals to the mixture of theory and practical which worked so well. In fact, he spent most of his evenings re-writing the manual, using the small library nearly as much as the students did. That was something which really surprised him about this group - they actually studied. Perhaps it was because they were still school students or perhaps it was because they encouraged each other with little challenges and tests all day long. Whatever it was, it worked.

Malfoy and Granger spent a lot of their free time huddled over huge tomes, the blond and the brown hair mixing together they were so close. When he inquired into what they were studying so diligently, Malfoy said 'Fairy tales' and Granger smacked his arm with a giggle.

"We're looking at the roots of fairy tales, one in particular about Snow White, or at least that's what the Muggles call it. I think the wizards call it "The Peril of Inheritance" or something like that?"

"'The Deceitful Bride'," Malfoy corrected with a shrug.

"Wasn't that supposed to be the Ravenclaw-Mortis Family?" Shacklebolt asked curiously. "She tried to make out she was dead but got caught up in the spell and was never revived to this day?"

"Mortis? Are you sure? I thought it was Morton," Malfoy said keenly, then groaned as Hermione shut the large tome with a bang. "I'm sorry, my father wasn't big on fairy stories, and Severus only knew the ones where people took poison or were eaten by wild animals. Had this fascination for Little Red Ridinghood, can't think why." Malfoy projected an air of utter innocence that fooled no one.

Progress was not very fast on the roots of the story. All the witches and wizards knew the tale, but each recounting was slightly different. A few elements remained constant though. The Bride took a life-slowing potion and was put under a timeless spell which could not be opened without a key. Her new husband killed his brother and the key was lost, end of story.

"What we really need to know is how was such a spell created and how do we open it?" Harry reminded them as they curled up in the common room.

Ginny stirred against his shoulder and sighed. "I'll bet I know who knows the secret. Professor Snape was the one who killed Professor Dumbledore, he was the one who had the snake charm that turned into a phoenix. I'll bet he knows exactly what happened and how it happened, but he is not telling anyone, mean old git."

"Oddly enough, Professor Snape is not completely horrible, you know," Harry said thoughtfully, then grinned when his girl turned to stare at him in shock. "Well, he's not. He was always mean and sarcastic and nasty tempered, but he could be quite funny too, sometimes."

"If you appreciate dark sarcasm and terror-induced stuttering as fine British humour," Dean put in with a grimace.

"Right up there with fart jokes," Seamus agreed.

Hermione and Draco exchanged long looks but remained silent.

"I wonder where he went last month? He looked pretty terrible when he came back, even paler and skinnier than usual," Ginny mused, flipping though yet another of Hermione's interminable tomes with little or no interest.

"Maybe he was on his annual hibernation?" Susan Bones suggested with a giggle as she draped elegantly over the sofa, her feet higher than her head as usual. "I wonder if he actually can relax because he is going to be a pain if he can't. I mean," - she grinned when she realised everyone was staring at her - "look at Professor McGonagall and Kingsley, and dear old Remus of course. They act like real people most of the time, when they aren't teaching us stuff. I mean, I never thought I would see the day Professor McGonagall relaxed enough to play Exploding Snap and toss her cards at Remus when he stole the pot on her. Can you actually see Professor Snape doing that? Or loafing around in jeans and a sweatshirt like Remus or…. Oh God, I have just had the most appalling image of Professor Snape in an athletics shirt and gold earring."

There was a concerted moan of horror which sent Parvati into giggles and Colin Creevey fell off the armchair in sheer horror.

"Oh come on, he's not that bad," Terry said quietly but without any real conviction.

"Professor Snape is a product of his environment, wary, alert and alive, where many of the Order are not," Hermione said flatly, killing the speculation before it became too much or grew too horrible. She could feel Draco tensing at her side and even Crabbe was looking grim.

"Too mean to kill, you think?" Ginny asked with narrowed eyes.

"He's a good man," Grabbe finally said, his low voice rumbling like distant thunder with the force of his need to say something. "He stops it being so bad."

There was a pause, but the heavy boy did not seem inclined to elaborate until Draco sighed. "Severus Snape is a powerful figure on the Dark Side, and therefore he sets the standards of behaviour for those who follow the Dark Lord, more perhaps than anyone else. If he disapproves of something then people avoid that sort of behaviour within the party structure. Example, wives and children are the property of the husband, to be treated and disposed of in any way the husband feels is correct. Severus Snape looks down his nose in contempt when a husband casually backhands his wife to shut her up and that no longer happens. If Snape does not approve, then the Dark Lord probably does not approve and therefore it is wisest to treat your property with a little more respect, do you see?"

There was a stunned and disbelieving silence, then Justin burst out, "But he hates kids; he is the cruellest, meanest bastard at Hogwarts. He is always giving out detentions and extra homework and stuff."

"I didn't say he was a nice person, just that he set the standard for the majority of the dark side. Believe me, if it wasn't for Severus' sense of justice and equality, then we would all be a lot worse off," Draco said grimly.

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me he is the paragon of virtue and saviour of the world," Ron snarled, glancing at Harry, who was picking at a hole in his jumper as he listened to the arguments.

"I never said he was, just that he has standards."

Harry looked up and pinned the others with a rather piercing stare, an expression he had mastered this past year. "I don't particularly like Severus Snape, but I do respect him. He is a difficult man doing a very difficult job to the best of his ability. His methods are cruel, but they are effective and he gets results. How many of you would have lost family if he hadn't managed to bring us good information? How many of us would have been killed in casual raids if he hadn't stuck us in detention? I can promise you Ron, Hermione and I have been saved because the snarky bastard set us too much homework for us to get out and do something we were planning, on a few occasions. He has taught me a hell of a lot, including how to hold onto my temper and channel it into something useful, so try not to let the abrasive nature blind you to the useful lessons he can give. I did and it cost me my Godfather and nearly cost me a lot of friends, too." He glanced at Ron, swept his eyes over Hermione, Neville and Luna and finally settled his smile on Ginny who smiled back gently. "Apart from that, he might hex you if you don't behave," he added to break the tension in the room.

There was an uneasy chuckle that eased as it gathered momentum and the usual hum of conversation began in the busy common room.

At the door, Remus eased back and sighed deeply, remembering Severus in his younger incarnation. These children would have enjoyed him then, he would have fitted right in, but who knew how prickly and hard to reach he would be when he finally arrived in the Room of Requirement.


	25. Of Course it is Fair

**Chapter 24** – _Of Course it is Fair_

Professor Snape appeared at the breakfast table a week later, not there one moment and there the next, his black robes absorbing the light and a wave of coldness surrounding him. The teachers nodded pleasantly to acknowledge his presence, not at all surprised to see him. The students gave him a wide berth as they stumbled in for the meal. The day was designated Sunday so there would be no classes but no one wanted to linger too long while Snape sat in disapproving silence near the top of the table.

Draco wandered in, nodded to his head of house and collapsed into a chair fairly close. Without thinking, he slid the toast and marmalade up toward his godfather who nodded grimly, accepting the offering in equal silence. Remus grinned as Severus managed to stick his thumb in the butter and took over preparing the toast when he realised the other man was still more asleep than awake and not trying to be formidable at all. Hermione watched the interaction with keen intelligence, the truth dawning on her much faster than on the other nervous breakfasters.

"He's half asleep, isn't he?" she muttered to Draco who grinned equally sleepily and nodded.

"The idiot who invented morning should be shot at tiffin," Draco confirmed around a yawn.

There was a small agreeing grunt which almost shocked Seamus out of his chair when he realised the Potions Monster was almost amused. "What are we doing today, folks?" he asked with a hopeful expression, trying to ignore the man who was casting such a pall over the usually cheerful meal.

"I think Kingsley was planning to run us through the obstacle course, again," Draco muttered resignedly.

"He had better figure out how to neutralise the poison first then."

The quietly spoken words seemed louder than a shout in the instant silence.

"What?" Minerva McGonagall snapped, her head coming up sharply. "Please tell me you didn't poison everyone again, Severus? What on earth were you thinking? Severus Snape, you are the living end at times! How could you do that? What did you use? You tell me this instant, Mister!"

"Oh do stop yowling, Minerva, its far too early in the morning. Besides, you have about six hours before it begins to affect anyone. You are all far too trusting, you know. I have said it again and again. So, this should give you a little incentive to be rather more alert in future." The smirk was in full force, as the tall man sat back in his chair and literally grinned at the indignant headmistress. "I would suggest that you start working on the problem as soon as possible. After all, you are really bad at potions, Minerva, and Kingsley is not much better."

"I should wring your scrawny neck, Snape," Shacklebolt roared furiously, his hands working spasmodically at his sides.

"You could, of course, but that is not going to do you much good in a few hours. You have to tackle this problem with brains, not brawn." Severus rose languidly and smirked, ignoring the cries of outrage as he wandered out of the dining room leaving complete chaos in his wake.

Horrified, the whole group exchanged looks and pushed their plates away almost as one. "No need to panic, he was probably only kidding," Shacklebolt announced grimly.

"No he wasn't," Draco refuted with a shake of his head, all traces of sleepiness banished in an instant. "I have never known Uncle Severus to joke about such a serious matter. If he says we are poisoned, then we are really, really poisoned and I think we had better try and find out what it was, and fast!"

"But how?" Hannah wailed miserably, glaring at her breakfast as if it was all to blame for their predicament.

"Maybe we should check and see if we are really poisoned first of all?" Harry suggested, trying for nonchalance.

"Oh, I agree with Draco, if Snape says he's done it, he has," Professor McGonagall muttered grimly. "Severus has absolutely no sense of humour."

"Well, that's not strictly true," Hermione piped up, her wand drawn and a thoughtful look on her face. "_Acclaro_ poison," she muttered not really expecting it to work. To her surprise every person and almost every cup on the table began to glow a dark storm cloud blue with small, purple flashes and green swirls.

Ron whistled appreciatively. "Go Hermione, so what do we do now?"

"Trace what it actually is in… Wait a moment, Neville! You have not been poisoned," Justin exclaimed in surprise.

"Nor has Luna. Okay, what did you two do that is different from everyone else?"

Neville and Luna looked at each other and blushed fiercely, making their classmates hoot and clap. "It wasn't like that," Neville protested, his ears turning bright red but Luna merely smiled and shook her head.

"We were late for breakfast so we didn't have time to do much more than get dressed," she offered by way of explanation. "Neville meant we didn't have time to even wash our faces, nothing more."

"Did you clean your teeth?" Hermione pounced, pulling out her notebook and poising her quill in a business-like manner.

"Hermione! What sort of question is that?" Lavender demanded angrily.

"Oh stop with the false modesty, I need to know if the water was poisoned, okay?" Hermione snapped at her fellow Gryffindor.

"I did not poison the main water supply to this area, Miss Granger, but good thinking," the soft, cold voice said almost out of thin air, it seemed, until they noticed Professor Snape had returned for another cup of tea.

"Sir, can we have a hint or a clue?" Draco asked immediately, smiling sweetly.

Snape raised a jaundiced eyebrow. "That overdone innocence failed to move me when you were six, I really cannot imagine it moving me now, Master Menace, can you? A clue? Humm, let me see. I think Miss Granger has the most effective course of action already worked out and she has already earned you a small reward for her intelligent approach to the problem."

"So it is a process of elimination," Hermione persisted, seeking clarification.

"Of course it is. Unfortunately, if you don't work fast then you and your fellow students will be the ones who are eliminated." He smirked in huge satisfaction as he sipped his tea.

Quiet and observant until that moment, Shacklebolt suddenly lunged and wrapped his hands around Snape's throat with a snarl of fury. The surprise on Snape's face would have been very funny under other circumstances but then Remus roared and bounded over the table in one leap, smashing his hands down on the crooks of Kingsley's elbows to break his hold. Shocked, the Auror stumbled back from the small man's maniacal fury leaving him crouched on the table growling and glaring from glowing amber eyes.

Coughing slightly, Severus leaned forward and stroked the length of Remus' back soothingly until the smaller man settled backward on his haunches, then he blushed vividly, his head drooping in shame. "Oh no, I am so sorry Kingsley, I never meant to…"

"Hush, Remy, you have no need to apologise. If idiot features had not reacted with his gonads rather than his brains he would not be suffering the consequences of his own rashness," Snape said flatly, with no allowance for argument in his pronouncement.

Shacklebolt's eyes narrowed but he stepped back, giving the werewolf room to calm down. He was amazed to see most of the class had their wands out and were ready to use them although whether in defence or attack he was not at all sure. He also noticed Justin nudging Dean who cast a surreptitious spell on Snape and both gaped when the results came in. "Er, Sir, did you know you were poisoned too," Justin asked hesitantly.

"Naturally. You will gain no advantage by observing my behaviour and seeing what I avoid," the teacher replied in very self-satisfied tones.

"And if we fail to discover the poison, will you too die of it for the sake of authenticity?" Draco asked curiously.

"Oh, I don't think I'll go quite that far. After all, there is only one of me and such a lot of you."

"Severus!" Remus protested scandalised.

"Sorry, Remy," he muttered then glared at the werewolf grimly. "I will say there is an antidote to the poison which you are all supposed to be capable of brewing, except perhaps Mr Longbottom, therefore, if you use your brains and apply your minds you should all survive quite nicely. And if you don't, I have enough antidotes to revive your teachers so they may start again on the next lot of trainees."

"Are you just going to let him get away with this, Professor McGonagall?" Harry demanded grimly, turning to their headmistress who had not as yet ventured an opinion.

She pursed her lips in thought. "Yes, I believe I am. Mind you, Severus, if you prove to be untrustworthy, then I do assure you I will haunt you for the rest of your days."

The Potions Master smirked but the Headmistress did notice a hint of gratitude in the cold black gaze.

"That's not fair!" Ron burst out almost by rote.

"Of course it is fair. Besides, 'fair' was never very well distributed at the best of times. I would suggest you hurry along with your research," Snape added with an evil grin that seemed even more wicked now that the headmistress had spoken.

Harry sighed. "So, we are all poisoned and we have no idea by what or how. Suggestions, people?"

"We need to find the source of the poison to find out what it is. Neville, since the water has been eliminated I want you and Luna to list everything you have either eaten or drunk this morning, with attention to the smallest detail. Hannah, you do the same and let's see, Seamus and Vincent. Hermione, you and Draco and Lavender get started looking in the library for things that glow blue and green under _Acclaro_." Harry glanced around the intent group. "Any further ideas people?"

"Maybe we should start trying to analyse the poison from stuff that is glowing," Dean said tentatively.

"Why not, we must cover as many angles of attack as possible. Let's get started folks."

The group scattered with a purpose."

oo0oo

"It's in the sugar!" Lavender yelled running through the Rooms of Requirement waving a bundle of parchment over her head as she burst into the library. "Hermione, Harry, it's in the sugar! It's the only common denominator and the one thing Neville and Luna did not touch. They have been using a sugar substitute to see if Neville can lose some of the baby fat which is why they were not poisoned. Blasted sugar! We all take it in our tea or coffee or on our porridge or cornflakes or even, Dean confessed, sprinkled on his toast!"

"Yuck!" Draco remarked as he turned to take the paperwork from the excited girl. "She's right, well done. Let's confirm it with Professor Snape before we go further."

"Would he tell us if we were right?" Terry asked consideringly.

"Oh yes, that was part of his rules of engagement, if we got hold of the truth, he would tell us but if we made a mistake he would lie."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked suspiciously.

Draco glanced at the young wizard with a raised eyebrow. "He's my uncle, that's just how he operates, always has. I'm afraid, much as you dislike the notion, you will just have to trust me on this one."

Dean snorted but didn't argue further as Draco swept out of the library and went in search of the errant professor. The tall man was sprawled untidily on a couch obviously napping as Draco approached but at the tiniest squeak of a sneaker on the floorboard, he jerked awake, his wand out and ready for defence. All the students made sure they stopped instantly, hands in clear sight until their professor relaxed with a snort of disgust and settled himself back on the sofa with a distinctly disgruntled humph of disgust.

"What do you lot want?" he asked grumpily.

Everyone turned to Draco who was appointed spokesman in that instant. "Er, we believe the primary source of the poison is the sugar. Can you confirm or do you deny this?"

"Yes, confirmed," Snape said shortly.

"We think it is something in powder form or crystalline form that is odourless, tasteless and readily dissolves in water which means it is undetectable in tea or coffee."

"Or hot chocolate," Severus added with an evil grin. "I even caught the werewolf without too much trouble."

Draco sniggered while the rest looked scandalised, amused or horrified by degrees. "Is it a common poison?" Draco chanced but Snape's good mood had gone again.

"You lot figure that out."

They headed back to the library where Hermione was waiting for their input.

"Definitely the sugar? That's great!" Hermione enthused, sweeping her hand over half the books and banishing them back to their places on the shelves.

"Why did you do that?" Emily asked, staring down at her empty hands.

"Well, think about it, everyone would have noticed if there was a potion in the sugar, it would be all soggy so it must have been in a powder form, yes? So now we look at powders and mixed powder poisons that are white only, again because any other colour would show up in the sugar."

There was a round of nodding before Lavender squeaked excitedly. "Here, try this one, it says. '_**Febris Crotequia**__ was invented by the Boggamin Hagg some four hundred years ago and was used extensively in the late 1500s and early 1600s to remove unwanted relatives and other useless encumbrances. Being of an innocent, white, powdery appearance, it was easily disguised in flour or dissolved into milk for almost undetectable ingestion. The symptoms are stomach cramps, discomfort of the bowels, a weakness of the legs and a spinning in the head. Later a high fever will develop and the symptoms can often be mistaken for Typhoid or Dysentery by the unwary practitioner._' Sounds pretty grim to me," she said, rubbing her stomach and biting her lip. "Does anyone else feel awfully sick?"

"Lavender! We haven't any time for hypochondriacs, not now; we have more important things to do," Ron snapped, reading over her shoulder. "Says here we can use the _Acclaro Arsenide_ spell to make sure we have the right poison." He performed the test and sure enough, they all glowed very specifically blue and purple. "Well, there you go, a classic. Now, do we have a recipe for the antidote?"

"Let's go see Snape first and make sure we have the right poison. I would hate to waste my time when it is so limited."

There was a harangue going on in the room the teachers tended to use as an office, raised voices thumps and clangs. The argument was muffled by the thick walls and door but it was obviously a loud and acrimonious one. Hermione and Draco exchanged looks and grinned before Draco raised his wand, transfigured it into a brass knocker and pounded on the door. Before he could transfigure it back, the panels were flung open and a very red faced professor McGonagall glared at them, a strand of grey hair flopping loose from her usually immaculate bun. "What do you want?" she snarled then visibly reined in her temper. "My apologies, we were just … discussing the current situation."

"Screaming like a bloody banshee more like," came Severus' comment, just loud enough for the students to hear.

McGonagall's back went ramrod straight again and she spun on a toe, her wand up and ready to meet Snape's expression which was so bland it was an offence on its own. "Are you really looking to be transfigured into a toad, Severus? Because believe me! I will have Neville Longbottom appointed your keeper, I swear!"

One black eyebrow rose but before the Potions Master could reply, Remus intervened placatingly. "What can we help you with, people?"

"Er, we needed to ask Professor Snape a few questions," Hermione said quickly, ignoring the harsh looks her ex head of House was shooting her fellow teacher. "Professor Snape, we need to confirm something and we need you to tell us the absolute truth. Is that part of the rules?"

"If you have the correct answer I will tell you," Snape confirmed with a regal nod.

"And if we are wrong?" Draco asked with a familiar smirk.

"Then I'll lie."

Draco laughed, McGonagall hissed and Remus shook his head in disgust.

"Very well. First question. Was the poison in the sugar?"

"Yes, correct."

"Was the poison _Mortis Avaricia_?"

Snape narrowed his eyes then smiled. "Very possible, a good candidate to be sure."

Hermione smiled blandly, ignoring the others totally.

"Humm. Was the poison _Febris Crotequia_?"

"Yes, correct."

"That's what I thought," Hermione smirked back. "Will the classic remedy work?"

"Yes, correct."

"Will we find the remedy recipe in our class notes?"

"There certainly is one version of it in there."

"But not the best version."

"Correct."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione nodded and dragged everyone out, ignoring the buzz of speculation as she hurried back to the library. "Well, that was a painless exercise, he was quite amiable, wasn't he?" she commented as she set her troops to searching out the latest and best remedy for the poison.

"He'd just had an obviously wonderful argument with McGonagall and was very pleased with himself, no doubt because he had managed to provoke her into screaming back," Draco said into her ear and kissed her neck most discretely. "Well done on the handling of him, Wild Hair."

Finding and brewing the antidote was a distinct anticlimax, all inhabitants of the Room of Requirement taking their dose without complaint. When they sat down to dinner that evening, Severus Snape almost caused a riot when he laughed aloud, so heartily he almost fell off his chair. Every single member of the crew had drawn their wands and cast _Acclaro_ over their meals, almost in unison!


	26. Toil and Trouble

Author's Note: Hi, quick word. I have been reading your comments and reviews with great interest and, if I knew how, probably blushes. It always amazes me that other people actually like what I write and I must admit it really stokes me. I'm not sure how this ended up as a Severus/Harry fic as it is a Severus/Remus and Harry/Ginny also a… ah, but that would be telling, wouldn't it? LOL. I'm glad you like the way I have written Severus, it was a blast, I assure you, how to get that same level of snarkiness without the bitter aftertaste and even in one so young. My friends tell me I write angst really well, being such a drama queen myself (and I can't really disagree!) so writing the humour was a bit of a challenge. I gather I have succeeded well enough to leaven the sheer overwhelming horror that could have happened, especially writing about such a traumatic thing as torture, death and warfare. Anyway, if it does lose the plot, please feel free to point it out.

Please keep reading and commenting and Dalou28, please do keep reading, and posting comments. Anyone with enough intelligence to learn a foreign language without any assistance has all my admiration and encouragement. Well done, you !

Les, Grandpop to three new puppies, seriously cute!

**Chapter 25** – _Toil and Trouble_

Potions with Snape - it was a nightmare revisited, especially for Neville who seemed to shrink a little as the time for the first lesson approached. Therefore they were all surprised when Remus, Kingsley and Minerva went into the classroom with them. Severus was already at the front of the room, standing on the slightly raised platform and admiring the layout of his new classroom as the students filed in. He merely glanced at his colleagues before he began his lecture which was very different from his school lectures and a lot more interesting.

Potions at an Auror level were not interested in _constructing_ potions but in _deconstructing_ them and figuring out how they were made. Remus seemed interested in learning something new, but the headmistress tended to fidget every time Severus snapped a question at someone. When he snapped a question at her, she merely stared then glared and primed her mouth. "I am not one of your students, Severus," she declared haughtily.

"My apologies, Minerva, I forgot you are abysmal at Potions. Remus, you used to have a clue, any thoughts?" Severus asked blandly, making the students gawp and Minerva swell up furiously.

Remus shook his head with a faint smile. "Play nice, Severus," he murmured making the Potions Master glare, then smirk evilly.

"Not a clue then? Granger?"

Hermione bit her lip then nodded. "I think you have to break the substance down to a molecular level before it can be separated and the various parts identified."

Severus blinked then nodded sharply. "Indeed, not exactly as I would state it but in essence completely correct. Have you any thoughts on breaking down a substance to its basic constituents?"

"I don't know how you would do it, but I would imagine there is a potion or a spell that would work. Would it be a type of _Acclaro_ spell with a… a directive component?"

"We have been reading ahead," he remarked but there was no edge to his voice, merely interest and Hermione sighed in relief. "Indeed, _Acclaro_ is the most versatile spell ever invented for revealing hidden things. It is rather like diagnostic potion, merely a carrier and a catalyst for the tailoring properties of the specifications the wielder cares to add. Malfoy, you have a thorough Classical education, can you think of how to tailor the _Acclaro_ spell to search for a single component of something?"

"Know your Latin and Greek I should imagine, and be able to conjugate the verbs accurately and precisely," Draco replied thoughtfully.

"Exactly. So, is anything else necessary?"

Neville gnawed the inside of his cheek then tentatively raised his hand. Severus raised an eyebrow but nodded his acceptance of Neville's contribution. "Er, shouldn't you, er, have some, er, idea of what you are, er, looking for?"

"Correct! Have some idea of what you are looking for. No good looking for poison if there is a ruddy great hole in his chest. No good looking for ashwinder if he is displaying the rictus of strychnine poisoning. If you know what the murderer used to kill the victim but you don't know who the murderer was, it also helps to see if the murderer left any traces of himself behind."

"I get it! I finally get it!" Seamus burst out excitedly. "Potions are forensics, you are teaching us forensics!"

"Mr Finnigan, I have no idea what you are blathering about. Please, enlighten us," Severus said snidely, crossing his arms over his chest.

Seamus shivered, glancing at Dean for support before trying to explain the science of forensics, how evidence collected at the scene of a crime could be used to track down the murderer and reconstruct the crime. Half way though his explanation, Snape's arms uncrossed and he leaned forward, elbows on the desk, gaze piercing the Irish wizard until he stumbled to a stop in confusion. Snape blinked then glared viciously. "Well, don't stop there, what else?"

"I don't know, Sir, it's just what me brother told me," Seamus almost wailed as the teacher's glare turned even more pointed.

"Sir, there are some good books on the subject…" Hermione put in tentatively and was immediately the target for that glare. "I mean, out there, in…."

"Sev, they think you are mad at them," Remus put in softly, making the other man blink as the snarl evapourated.

"Why would I be angry with them? Just because they do not have the information I want doesn't mean I'm mad at them, but it is rather cruel to introduce a whole new area of study with such a tantalising and intriguing build-up then not _know_ anything, bloody cruel, if you ask me," Severus said aggrieved before straightening up and sighing. "Very well, Aurory Potions, or Forensics, and you _will_ get me those book titles, Miss Granger, once we are released from this place."

Hermione grinned. "Yes, Sir," she murmured as Draco squeezed her hand under the cover of the desk.

oo0oo

Harry sprawled on the sagging old sofa in the common room, a comfortable lethargy holding his limbs. They had been pretty much confined to the Room of Requirement for almost eleven months, but it didn't seem like a prison. They had all worked very hard, learning as much as their instructors could pour into them, and poured they had. Moody and Remus had taught them things they had to know to survive - spells, hexes, jinxes and charms from silly stuff to heavy duty, life-preserving magic to keep them alive in a battle.

Minerva had taught them to transfigure almost anything into something useful with the least possible output of magic, making every erg of power count. Kingsley had honed their physical bodies until they were as fit and strong as any Auror trainee ever schooled, able to sustain themselves for hours in the taxing physical routines he devised and yet still be able to fight a duel at the end of it.

Snape was the hardest one to fathom, just as exacting when it came to lab work, but the edge of his sarcasm had been... not blunted but the bitter nastiness was missing. He still held them all to a very high standard, but he was willing to help them reach it instead of making them think it was impossible. He even pulled very subtle but recognisable jokes on their teachers, making them squark in outrage as often as he did the students. Once he even managed to slip Professor McGonagall a potion that gave her bunny ears even when she was in cat form. Although he denied it with his hand on his heart, they all knew who the culprit was and even Kingsley had to admit it was a fairly good prank.

One thing he did that no one was pleased about was to bring a very strange and powerful form of magic into the freeform duel he, Moody and Remus were fighting. It began when Moody hit Snape with a spell that was painful and persistent, burrowing into Snape's shield and causing blue lightening to dance across his skin, leaving welts and burned patches wherever it touched. Professor McGonagall had protested but Moody only laughed, causing Snape to glare furiously then he seemed to swell, his ebony wand vibrating until it looked blurred and… indistinct almost.

Everyone ducked as Snape straightened abruptly, spitting a spell in a language no one had heard before. Remus yelled, "Severus, no!", but he was too late, the force wave slamming out-over before the light wave followed. It was a roiling ball of greenish purple light, a moving bruise that slammed Moody against the far wall, making the floor ripple and furniture dance across the wooden parquet tiles. The students tried to put up shields but were unable to stop the icy cold wave of power freezing them to the spot. Even Professor McGonagall staggered but managed to keep her feet as Remus yelled a counter-curse in a similar language, making Snape cock his head and grin evilly, all of his uneven teeth on show.

Nodding acknowledgement, he turned his full attention on Remus, moving his wand in a slow figure of eight, the force following the movement like a trained snake, or a bullwhip, flicking out and darting in, looking for an opening in Remus' shield but not finding one. Both Moody and McGonagall tried to distract the combatants but failed miserably as they stalked each other in the centre of the floor, testing their metal against each other's powers and abilities. When the flurry of activity came, the two combatants made no noise, their magic duelling in the centre of the room until they were both tossed back from the force of the detonation.

Remus bounced twice on his arse before sprawling on the floor; Severus slammed back first into the wall and slid down, his legs sticking out at right angles to each other. The students watched in horror as both men shook their heads to clear the stars from their vision, then both burst out laughing much to the audience's amazement.

"It's a good thing this is the Room of Requirement, or Hogwarts would have tossed you out on your ear," Remus muttered, rubbing the back of his skull.

"I am amazed that you had the skill to counter that particular spell," Severus remarked, making his neck crack ominously.

"How dare you use black magic around our students?" Minerva was almost frothing at the mouth as she picked herself up and pointed a quivering wand at her fellow teacher's head.

"High Court magic, Minerva, and our students better get to know how to deal with it, especially Potter. Tom Riddle was taught to use it by the best and use it he will, I do assure you," Snape sniffed, climbing to his feet.

"I suppose you taught him then?" Moody snapped angrily.

"No, my Grandmother did, actually, as I am sure you are aware, Alastor. After all, wasn't it you who tried to pin that one on me years ago?"

"What makes you think Tom Riddle might use it?" Remus put in hurriedly before the two men could square off at each other.

"If you have a weapon, you do not leave it at home when you are going to battle for your life, do you? Of course he will use it and any other form of magic he can to take Potter out of the equation with; he would be a fool not to. I would."

"Yes, but you are a bloody Death Eater," Moody snarled viciously.

Snape's eyes narrowed and for a second they all thought he was going to attack Moody with his bare hands, but then he smiled and straightened, pushing his hair out of his eyes absentmindedly. "Correct, and as such I can offer unique advice and insights into the workings of the Death Eater mind, don't you think?" he asked sweetly before turning to help Remus up. "When you are ready to open your mind, come and see me."

Harry shivered, knowing that Snape was a very dangerous man. He had always distrusted him in a sort of half contemptuous way, but he had never seen the dark man display his power in such an overt fashion before. It was a shock to the system to realise he had underestimated someone for nearly seven years, a bit like finding your neighbour's mongrel dog was really a transfigured Swedish Short Snout. He was still trying to figure out how he felt about the revelations when the man himself hurried into the common room and began searching diligently under the furniture and behind the desks.

After debating with himself, Harry sat up and peered over the back of the sofa. "Can I help you there, Sir?"

Snape jumped nervously then sneered almost by habit before he sighed. "I have lost a book, a very small book, perhaps three inches square. It is… precious to me."

"Oh. I'll help you look," Harry muttered, rising to take the opposite side of the room. They searched diligently for some fifteen minutes before they felt they had covered every inch, and yet the book still eluded them. "It will turn up sometime," Harry remarked as Snape dropped into the nearest chair, a look of total discontent on his long, thin face.

"I hope so. It was the last gift I received from a very dear friend and I do treasure it," Snape murmured as he left the room hurriedly.

Harry blinked, wondering if Snape was developing a soft spot but realising that was just ridiculous as he stretched out again. Even as he half dozed in the fire's warmth he suddenly realised the shadows on the top of the mantle were distorted. Curiously, he rose and stood on the edge of the hearth to reach the high shelf, his hand encountering paper and cardboard. The book was indeed tiny, the corners all but worn away, the cloth binding faded and shabby. The gold leaf of the title had been almost rubbed out but he could still make faintly make out the words, 'Love is….'

Curious, Harry began to flip through when the book fell open at an obviously well used page, the binding almost bent through at that point. There was a cartoon of a cute little couple and the caption, 'Love is… accepting responsibility.' There was a drawn, broken vase and the small female figure looked quite angry while the male figure looked a little sheepish. It was cute and trite and very Muggle, so much so, Harry wondered seriously if it was actually the book Professor Snape had been searching so diligently for. Flipping it back to the flyleaf, Harry read the inscription and gaped in shock.

'_To Severus, love is… never having to admit you are impossible! Have a great Christmas. Love, Lily and Harry. (I won't mention James; I know what that does to your blood pressure.)_'

The writing was large and loopy, very feminine and playful kisses decorated the border. Harry ran a shaking finger over the inscription, trying to feel the trace of his mother in that simple inked line. How had Snape, of all people, received a gift from his mother, _why_ had Snape of all people received gifts? Try as he might, he could not think of any circumstances under which his mother and his least favourite professor could be friends. Realising such speculation was stupid; Harry rose and closed the tiny book, holding it tightly as he made his way along to Snape's room and tapped on the door.

A muffled 'come in' made him wonder about security, but then he shrugged and pushed the door open. The room was a standard one, no hint of human habitation to be seen, unlike their rooms which had personal belongings all over the place. Snape was sitting at the study desk, his robes draped around him and still fastened to the neck.

"Sir, I found your book," Harry said nervously and was shocked when a look of sheer relief flitted across the usually expressionless face before him. A pale hand was held out and Harry carefully placed the small item in his palm, amazed that it disappeared into an inner recess of the black robes almost instantly. "Er, I saw the inscription, Sir," he said carefully. "My mother gave the book to you, didn't she? _Why_?"

For a moment he thought the man was not going to answer, then he sighed and seemed to relax again. "Your mother was one of the very few people in my life that I have ever called 'friend'. She never judged me, never took anything I did at face value and she always listened to what I was meaning, not necessarily what I was saying," Severus said dreamily, as if talking to himself. "When Tom killed her, I was devastated. If I could have, I would have killed him right there and then, but alas, you had already disposed of him, or so we thought. He took a very bright and beautiful part of my life that night, and destroyed it."

"Were you in love with her, is that why you hated my father?" Harry asked softly, trying not to break the mood.

"Oh, I loved her alright, but not in a romantic sense, and I didn't hate your father because of Lily, he earned that hatred all on his own merits. No, Lily was my friend, a dear and trusted friend with whom I corresponded regularly until the day she died. I don't know if she told your father we were friends, I really don't care, but she never allowed his prejudice to taint what we had. When I saw her eyes looking out of James' face, it was indeed a shock to the system," he added with a faint smile as he turned obsidian eyes on the younger man.

Harry sighed. "What was she like, Sir? I mean, everyone tells me about my father, but no one says much about my mother. Even Sirius was more forthcoming about my dad and Remus will tell me Marauder stories, but very few people say more than Mum had red hair and green eyes…."

"… and a wicked temper and the kindest heart that would not be swayed by rhetoric or peer-pressure. She made up her own mind about who was good and who was not and whom she would associate with. She was very intelligent and a powerful witch, even though she was a Muggle-born. She gave the Marauders hell when they tried to play pranks on her and her friends, and she put your father and Sirius into a stone block when they did something nasty to someone she felt did not deserve their contempt. Mind you, she put me into a full body bind with little effort and I was looking at the time, even your father never managed that much," he added with relish. "She was everything a witch should be, bright, intelligent, powerful and compassionate, a person well worth knowing and emulating; you would have been proud to know her, Harry, very proud."

Harry was shocked to see his old nemesis looked misty and reminiscent as he turned toward the desk drawer and pulled out a thick parchment book with a spiral binder and handed it over with a wry smile. Glancing down, Harry opened it to the first page and drew a deep, sharp breath. The girl in the central drawing looked startled to see him, a faintly puzzled look on her face as she glanced across at Snape almost interrogatively.

"He's your son, Lily, all grown up," Snape said wryly, the girl's eyebrow rising as she turned back to look at Harry. There were dozens of tiny expression thumbnails around the edge of the page, and Harry realised these were the models for the expressive drawing in the centre. He glanced at Severus for permission before turning the page. The next sketch was of the Slytherin common room, half a dozen young boys lolling about the furnishings, laughing at the sketch artist and hoisting rude fingers derisively. Harry grinned and turned to the next page, a sharp breath again as the Marauders leaped out at him, all young and bright and full of promise. Snape seemed disposed to let him look through the whole book and he took advantage, blushing as a naked Malfoy lay on a bed laughing up before realising he was not seeing Snape looking back.

"Lucius, he was very pretty when he was younger," Snape remarked meditatively as Harry skipped to the next page and almost dropped the book in shock. "Ah yes, my Tom, Tom Riddle. You have only seen his mad snake-self, Harry, but when he was younger, he was truly charismatic, beautiful to look at, intelligent and well read to talk to, and he played a mean game of chess. Look carefully, Harry Potter, this is the man you are going to kill one day, and I am dedicated to helping you do just that. You see, Harry, I helped create Lord Voldemort and I will help destroy him, even if it kills me, especially if it kills me."

Harry shivered at the softly caressing tones, a long, pale finger reaching out to stroke the drawn face on the creamy parchment. This was so personal, it was almost painful and Harry wondered why he was being given what amounted to a guided tour of his professor's life. Shelving his questions, he turned the page, a soft keen of loss breaking out. Professor Dumbledore looked back at him, a twinkle in his eyes, Fawkes sitting on his shoulder. The old man grinned and waved, a slightly lunatic smile that invited a grin in return. Severus cocked his head, and the old man nodded making shooing motions to encourage the dark young man.

Severus shook his head then stiffened as if hit by a _Petrificus Totalus_ spell. His lips moved stiffly, the words hollow and faint but in the headmaster's voice.

"Hello, Harry, hello, Severus, you are finally both together and viewing this picture, so I can pass the message on now. Harry, you have the Phoenix passed from Elder Snake – my boy Severus – to younger Lion – my boy Harry. The key will open my tomb in the presence of my blood kin; Severus knows how to do this. I need to return at the cusp moment, an unexpected return that may tip the balance of the war and bring about Tom's downfall. Take care, my boys, and do support each other in this coming time of trial and anxiety, won't you." The holding spell faded and both men shook the last of the glamour away, staring at each other in shock.

"Oh my God, is it that easy, the pendant is the key to Dumbledore's tomb, and he is sort of alive inside the marble edifice that was raised over him?" Harry questioned eagerly.

"Yes, yes and yes. I-I know… I know the spell and I know the potion, it is the Timeless Death potion, I brewed it myself. How do you break it, how! Damn Tom and his bloody Cruciatus Curse, the information has been knocked straight out of my head!" Severus almost wailed as he realised how much he had forgotten. "I have to think, you should go now," he said firmly, all but physically throwing Harry out of the door.

"But... but, Professor! I need to know what to…" Harry ground his teeth in frustration when he realised he was speaking to the flat wooden panels of the door. Glaring, he was tempted to pound on them but realised it would do no good, so he set off to wake Hermione and tell her of the latest developments.

She seemed to have found the way to handle Snape and to get him to confirm or deny information they found. Perhaps she could get him to open up about this most important development before they were defeated by his lack of trust.


	27. Childhoods End

**Chapter 26** – _Childhood's End_

The room was silent, only the gentle crackle of the fire subsiding adding a soothing background melody to the night. Draco lay propped against the headboard, staring into space and idly running a gentle hand down the smooth flank of the woman next to him. Hermione lay curled into his side, her head resting on his chest, her breath caressing his bare skin with gentle benediction as she slept. If anyone had told him even a year ago that he would be in this position, he would have laughed in their face and accused them of being drunk. Him and a Gryffindork? Not in this lifetime! And yet here he was, in the only place he wanted to be, holding his Wild Hair and feeling completely content.

It had started out innocently enough, Draco taking what he felt he was entitled to, as usual, pursuing the things he felt he was owed due to the family rank and prestige, but Hermione was not interested in those things, she made that quite clear in small but significant ways. She liked the way he studied, liked the way he could debate with her and use his brain to outthink her at times. With Hermione, he knew he was wanted and appreciated for himself alone, not for what his family had to offer or his money could buy. It was scary and heady and completely addictive.

The only problem was, she was a Mudblood as he had tossed in her face in their younger years, a Muggle-born, a word he had had to learn to use in the right places or suffer a broken jaw if he wasn't too careful. If his family or his housemates ever got wind of the budding romance, they were both dead, not figuratively but literally. His father would string them both up in the dungeons and use them for curse practice. Hermione had assured him they could both keep the secret, but sometimes he just wanted to proclaim his love…

He stirred awkwardly, drawing a protest from the sleeping girl who almost woke up only to snuggle back with a contented sigh. He really did love her, and that was the scariest part of this whole affair - that it was not an affair but a romance. When he had first made the discovery late last year, it had scared the life out of him, but now he was content to admit to himself that he loved Hermione Granger - Gryffindor, Muggle-born, powerful witch - with all his heart and soul. Once he admitted that much to himself, he had immediately gone into damage control, doing everything he could to protect her and keep her safe from his parents. There was also a matter of making himself acceptable to Hermione so that, when he presented his suit, she would find him worthy of consideration as a mate.

Money made the Pureblood world go around, and so he had cleaned out his vault, and as much of his parents' vault as he dared, transferring the money, stocks, bonds and shares to another vault he had opened at Gringotts, in the name of Minnie and Donald Morgan. His father had applauded his decision to take an interest in the family business and had introduced him to the board of directors, allowing him to take some part in the running of the vast Malfoy conglomerate. For his last birthday, he had received a small custom broom making firm, lock, stock and workforce, part of the Greater British Broom Company who produced Firebolts and Cleansweeps. His father had told him to run it as he pleased and see what he could make of it. The transfer was completely legal, and even if the world went up in smoke, Draco would still be able to derive an income from the company.

Once the income was secured, he had made a new and completely unchallengeable will, leaving everything he owned to Hermione to become effective on the day of their marriage. He made sure it was with a company other than his family solicitors, an associate of the Light whom his uncle had recommended. Severus never asked awkward questions like why he needed a non-family solicitor; he simply made the appointment and wrote out a note to allow Draco to leave the school grounds. Once there was money and legal protection, Draco felt more able to offer his chosen love something substantial, instead of merely offering her words.

This year out of time had proved to be a wonderful thing, the safety of the Room of Requirement allowing them both to say and do exactly as they wanted. When Draco had carefully laid out his new arrangements before Hermione, showing her proof of what he had done to secure her future; she had gaped at him in utter shock. Picking up each piece of parchment, she reread them carefully then folded her hands in her lap and stared at him as if using _Legilimency_.

"You have secured an income, you have put one hundred thousand galleons into a vault as security and you have made me your legal heir," she recapped carefully, indicating each piece of parchment as she went. "You have deeded a house in London and a house in Oxfordshire to me and guaranteed the income to run both houses comfortably for the next twenty years. Draco, why?"

The surprise on his face would have been totally comical if she had been in a laughing mood, but as it was she was just puzzled. "I'm, I'm suitable," he declared as if it should have been self-evident. "See here, and here, suitable."

"Suitable for what?" she insisted, half exasperated, half amused.

"As a suitor, as - as your prospective husband," he stated no longer as confident as he had been. "I thought… you know… us."

"Are you proposing to me, Draco Malfoy? Good grief, you _are_ proposing! Why all these elaborate arrangements, Draco? You could have just asked me," she said gently, taking his hand and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Try it, Draco, just ask me," she murmured into his ear.

Draco blushed then paled then nodded jerkily. "Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?" he asked in nervous, stilted tones.

"Draco Malfoy, I will," she replied and almost giggled when he gasped and let out a huge sigh of relief, then grabbed her and hugged her so tightly she thought she was going to suffocate.

Draco smiled into the darkness. Muggle-borns, how different they were! His Hermione didn't need a guarantee of support or even proof of prosperity; all she wanted was a simple declaration, a question and a trumpery ring, not even an elaborate ring. Mind you, the diamond he had chosen was of the first quality, a perfect emerald cut stone set into platinum filigree so delicately it looked as if it was floating above the band. There were enough charms and wards on the ring to keep a household safe, hopefully enough to keep one wonderful woman safe from his family and their friends.

He wasn't sure when they would marry, if it would be before the end of the war or after, but marry they would. If the Light lost, then it would be a run-away match and they would set up house in the Pacific Islands, possibly in South America or Australia. If the Light won, then he would salvage what he could of the family fortune, but his current arrangements would be sufficient to keep his bride fairly comfortably until they could establish themselves again. One of the unsettling things he had immediately discovered about marrying outside the Pureblood circle was that his chosen mate had very firm ideas about a woman's place in marriage, and it was not as a pampered and cosseted pet. Hermione was just as bright and as determined as he was, and together they would succeed no matter what the outcome of the war.

Hermione stirred and blinked awake, realising Draco was not asleep. He was funny at times, making moves and then sitting back in astonishment when she didn't react the way he expected. It was amazing to see how many rethinks he could go through in a week, how many of his assumptions he could lay aside or rebuild to suit the current situation. His very versatility made him something special in her eyes, and his willingness to listen and adapt was a gift she valued above everything else. He didn't give orders then insist she obeyed them without thought. He outlined situations, gave his point of view, then listened to her arguments or agreements with an open mind and a willingness to compromise that was definitely not a pureblood trait. All in all, Draco Malfoy was wonderful! "What are you thinking of?" she asked, raising her head a little and kissing his chin gently.

He kissed her forehead and smiled. "Not much, just appreciating what I have and planning to make sure it is kept safe no matter what happens in the outside world," he murmured, snuggling her up closer.

oo0oo

Neville grinned down at Luna as he swung her delicately under his arm and dipped her with care and grace. Luna giggled and swept her free arm wide, adding a sophisticated curve to the manoeuvre that was beautiful to behold. In the background, the radiogram played waltz music softly so as not to disturb anyone, neither dancer willing to give up their time to an irate neighbour who might complain about noise. They were an odd couple, two social misfits finding acceptance in each other, complimenting each other's skills and shoring up each other's weaknesses.

Neville had approached his Gran about Luna, and Gran had approved her as a prospective bride, being of a suitable social status. The Lovegoods were well known in most circles, a prosperous and well-bred family. Luna had just laughed when Neville told her, handing him a cork with a note attached. Sometimes Luna did things like that. When they discovered they both loved to dance and their steps meshed as perfectly as their magic, it was a confirmation of their compatibility. Gran and Mr Lovegood had consented to their engagement to commence as soon as they left school.

This year out of time had been very good for cementing their relationship away from the scrutiny of their families, a chance to really get to know each other's likes, dislikes, wants and needs. Their friends had given them unconditional support, and they felt they could make a great life for themselves. Luna had plans for taking over the Quibbler from her father when he retired, writing for him until that day came. Neville had already been given a large tract of land by his Gran to turn into greenhouses and gardens so he could pursue his chosen career in Herbology.

"You know," Luna said dreamily, "I think we should have at least four children, don't you?"

Neville felt his jaw drop then a grin forced its way across his face. "Four? Yes, I'd like that, but why four?"

"So they wouldn't be lonely. Two would play together, but then if they fought they would be lonely. If there were three and they fought, then they would gang up two to one and that wouldn't be fair, but four would give a lot more scope for alliances and friendships, and if someone outside the family interfered then they could all gang up on the intruder. Didn't you always long for siblings?"

"True. I didn't have anything except Muggle friends when I was a child. They thought I was going to be a Squib so they made plans accordingly." Neville had grown past the bitterness he used to feel, thanks to Luna and Harry and Ron and Hermione.

"Little did they know…," Luna said splaying her hand over her heart dramatically and pantomiming a faint of shock that made Neville giggle and swirl her into the dance once again.

Yes, Luna was wonderful!

oo0oo

Dean was teaching Seamus how to play soccer in the gym, a pastime fraught with danger it turned out as Seamus managed to kick him in the shins again. "Bloody hells, man, the ball, kick the ball!" Dean yelped, hopping madly much to Seamus' amusement.

Seamus laughed, drew his wand and spelled his mate's shin as he attempted to dribble the ball as he had been shown. Dean was a good sport and a fine friend, and more. They had clicked as soon as they hit first year together, their friendship slowly turning to more serious like as they grew older. He wasn't sure how they had ended up together, whose idea it had been to make the first move, but he was happy with Dean, even if Dean tended to drift off and find a girl every time he had a crisis of conscience. He hadn't minded Dean seeing Ginny, because they all knew she was going to end up with Harry so she was no real threat, but that bloody Lavender was a pain in the arse. Still, that had come to a sticky end when her demands had become too much and Dean had finally come to his senses. She was stalking McMillan now and good luck to them both!

They both looked up startled as Harry burst into the gym, not stopping as he ran across and slammed through into the corridor that led to the dormitories and rooms. He didn't even pause to say hello but just powered on through, the knocking on a door breaking the silence a few seconds later. The two young men exchanged puzzled glances then shrugged and resumed their game. If it was anything they needed to be told, they would find out at breakfast. That was usually how things worked here in their own little microcosm of the world.

oo0oo

Ginny stumbled out of bed when the pounding on her door finally penetrated her sleep. Grumbling in disgust, she cracked the door open then opened it more fully when the agitated Harry began to push in. "What on earth are you doing, do you know what time it is?" she asked as the young man skidded to a stop in the centre of the room and stared at the empty bed on the other side.

"Where's Hermione?" he demanded, pushing a hand through his already wildly tangled hair.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Why do you want her?" she asked softly.

"I have some news, some really good and really bad news, I really need to talk to her, Ginny, right now," Harry pleaded, then grinned maniacally. "She's with Malfoy, isn't she? Damn it! Oh well, no help for it, he has been doing a lot of the research too, I suppose, and he is on our side, or he had better be or we are all dead, aren't we?"

"Malfoy is on Hermione's side, that much I can guarantee you, and as long as she is on our side, so is he," Ginny pronounced slowly. "Harry, just sit down and get your breath for a moment, you look like you are going to hyperventilate. Can you tell me about it, whatever 'it' is?"

For a moment she thought he was going to dash off again but then he grabbed her and kissed her hard, spinning her around in a circle. "We are saved!" he announced with suppressed glee. "I have pretty much figured out what that prophecy meant and we are saved as soon as we get all the stuff together."

"Well? Don't keep me in suspense, how are we saved? And why do you need Hermione?"

Harry sobered a little, taking a deep breath before pursing his lips. "We were right, Dumbledore's tomb is a Timeless Bier and he is alive inside, the Phoenix pendant is the key. However, we need his blood kin present to open it which I think means we need Aberforth. Professor Snape has the information, but that bout of Cruciatus Curse has made him forget it, which is why I need Hermione. She might be able to help him remember, which is sort of imperative, do you see?"

"But not at eleven thirty pm, Harry, she will be asleep and waking her up will not make you very popular, I do assure you," Ginny teased with a slightly edged tone. "Let's just keep this between ourselves until tomorrow when we can all have a go at the problem, okay?"

Harry sighed and threw himself backward on Ginny's bed, a forearm over his eyes. "I suppose," he grunted in disgruntled tones, turning over onto his tummy almost automatically when Ginny urged him to.

The red head dug strong thumbs into the rolls of muscle across his shoulder blades, catapulting Harry straight into Nirvana. He groaned and felt himself turn immediately into jelly as Ginny worked on his back, his shirt bunched up around his neck. Having missed the simple pleasures of human contact when he was young, Harry revelled in it, and Ginny was just as happy to supply the touch. Limp and boneless, Harry half turned and gathered Ginny up into his arms as she wriggled down beside him, dropping a kiss on her forehead and smiling as she reciprocated, kissing up his throat. Their lips met in the middle and clung, sipping and nibbling before locking together, tongues entwined as their passions grew. The exquisite moments they stole or made together were so very precious because of the rarity. While Ron approved of his sister and best friend going out together, he did not approve of them getting too cosy together, and if he found them together in such a compromising position he would go spare as only a Weasley could do.

"There's not much time left now, is there, Harry?" Ginny murmured softly as they lay side by side, legs entangled.

"No, not much, I think," Harry murmured softly, nosing her ear gently. "We've had our stolen year, our chance to grow up and get some training and experience. We may be able to steal a week here or there but never another year out of time. We're as trained as we can be, and if we get Dumbledore back then we will be as ready as we will ever be. We are no longer children, we are soldiers now and we have to recognise that, we're at childhood's end."

Ginny signed and nodded very slightly. "Professor Dumbledore always said our love for each other would be the thing that defeated You-Know-Who, and I think we have all discovered love in all its forms over this year. As long as we are united and strong in our love and faith, we will survive childhood's end."

"I love you, Ginny Weasley, and if we both survive this, would you marry me?" Harry asked softly, nervously.

"Yes, Harry, I will," Ginny replied equally softly but without a hint of nerves.


	28. Real World Looming

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews, people, they are always welcome and, Fmh, I don't think there is any such thing as too long a review.

I hope that I can convey to you readers that the characters are three dimensional, they have good points and bad points whether they are classed as 'Dark' or 'Light'. No one, not even the great monsters of history, were all bad, not even in real life. Sometimes I think I have the skill to get these ideas across then at others, I don't think I can string two words together successfully, only you readers can tell for sure.

I'm sorry that the various relationships are not working out as some of you wish but I have to work to the internal logic that started in Angelinus, the first story I wrote and the last story in this series. I've already had to revise Angelinus and will have to do some revision on Werewolves but they will be uploaded in order after Recon. (And if that looks like a plug for my stories, it is. LOL) I do promise more Sev/Rem interaction, as well as a developing respect between Harry and Severus, nothing romantic, just a growing understanding and respect. Anyway, on with the story.

Les

**Chapter 27** – _Real World Looming_

**Warnings: Language is a bit ripe and some implied slash.**

"Listen up, ladies and gentlemen," Alastor called, tinkling a knife against the edge of his glass. The noise level dropped as the group turned and faced the older wizard in expectant silence. "As tonight is the last night, we are going to have a party of sorts to congratulate you all on the fine work you have done over this year. I am proud of all you have accomplished and only wish we had time for more. I believe all we teachers can honestly say we have never had a better group of students to work with."

From Alastor Moody this was high praise indeed and everyone felt almost involuntary smiles creep across their faces. Before they could enjoy the moment, the old man told them to shut up he wasn't finished, making them laugh and Professor McGonagall splutter indignantly. "Tomorrow, when we go back to 'the real world' there are a few things you must all remember. This year did not happen, it will be the 7th of January and you will all be sixth year and seventh year students, not adults and Auror trainees. You will once again be subject to school discipline, house pressures and rivalries and you _must not forget that!_ For some of you it will be harder than for others," his eyes sought out Malfoy and Granger then slid over to Thomas and Finnigan. Amazingly, he also singled out Lupin and Snape in his not unfriendly glare. "So, make the most of the evening and be prepared to rejoin the school population at two pm tomorrow. That's all, food, drink and dancing in the gym this evening."

"You know, only Mad-Eye Moody could make a party invitation sound like a dangerous assignation," Draco murmured in Hermione's ear as he buttered toast and placed it on her plate.

"I need a word, guys," Harry leaned over to mutter before smiling at Ginny and nudging Ron to pass the jam. "Drop by my room after breakfast, will you?"

"Sure," Hermione nodded, pouring tea for all five of them. "Did you notice Vincent making eyes at Lavender yesterday evening? Think it's a go?"

"There have been stranger combinations," Ginny mused, glancing at the huge Slytherin who was totally absorbed in watching Lavender who was calmly eating her breakfast and very pointedly ignoring him. "Think she realises?"

"Oh yes," Hermione grinned. "No one gets to ignore someone that hard without realising there is something to ignore."

Draco shook his head slowly. "I wonder if Crabbe even realises he is staring?"

It was a typical breakfast time for the group, lazy gossip and speculation mixed with deep discussions and silly jokes. As they cleared the table and left the kitchen, Malfoy signalled to Crabbe to go get Lavender then slipped away to enter Potter's room as silently as a ghost. He was almost shocked to see both Professor Snape and Remus Lupin already seated at the study desk. Nodding acknowledgement of his head of House and godfather, he slipped into place behind Hermione and prepared to wait for enlightenment. Potter loved melodramatics and he was beginning to appreciate the quality as it was one he could finally admit they shared.

"Right, I have something to tell you unless you want to tell them, Professor?" Harry began, nodding deferentially to Snape. "Okay, okay, we are on the right track with Professor Dumbledore. His tomb is a timeless bier and the phoenix around my neck is the key to opening the tomb but it has to be done in the presence of his bloodkin, so we need Aberforth to be present when we are doing the opening. Have you remembered any more, Professor Snape?"

Snape stirred irritably. "Something came to me, we will need Fawkes but when Dumbledore died he disappeared. I know where he went but I can't actually remember at the moment, which is so frustrating! The whole ritual is in High Court magic but again, it has gone clean out of my head and I can't remember!"

Remus stroked a hand down his back to calm him. "Perhaps if you were to relax a little? One of your potions might …," he suggested only to be silenced by an incredulous look.

"For Merlin's Sake, Werewolf, don't you think I am immune to my own potions? One of the first and simplest precautions I took was to make sure my own concoctions couldn't be used against me."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking." Remus winced at the concentrated disgust in his mate's voice.

"What about _Legilimency_, can someone get in to read your mind?" Draco asked quietly.

Severus made a disgusted noise. "Not likely. I am the best _Legilimencer_ and _Occlumencer_ around here, better than everyone else I know, except Tom Riddle and Dumbledore and quite frankly, I think I could keep them both out at once if I had to." There was no bragging in the tone just a plain statement of fact.

"Granted," Harry said thoughtfully. "However, you might be able to unwind enough to let someone you trust in to assist you, if you were relaxed enough."

Snape opened his mouth to snap then closed it as a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Possible. However, allowing myself to relax that much would be a difficult assignment in the first place and I don't trust many people." It was a sad confession but said without self-pity or pathos, just a statement of fact. "I suppose enough alcohol might do it but it would have to be a fair quantity."

"Where can we get some books on High Court magic?" Hermione asked rather predictably making most of the room's occupants snort slightly but oddly, Snape gave it some real thought.

"Probably at Snape Manor, not the safest location in the world. Definitely a place to start though, I'll go and look tomorrow."

oo0oo

The party was in full swing, the members of the Auror group enjoying their night to howl. Crabbe finally managed to ask Lavender to dance and was doing a creditable job of it despite his bulk. Draco and Hermione occupied a quiet corner, simply being together and enjoying each other's nearness while they had the chance. Severus looked across and sighed deeply, knocking back yet another firewhiskey as if it was water.

"You look pensive," Minerva murmured as she slid into the seat beside him and set her own glass down gently.

"The boy is going to get into such trouble," Severus murmured, his glass automatically refilling. "Merlin, if Lucius or Narcissa ever find out then the jig will be well and truly up. They will kill him slowly and painfully; regardless that he is their one and only heir. Damn it, why couldn't he have fallen for the Parkinson girl? Admittedly Simon Parkinson is a slimy little git but at least he is a pure-blood little git and his daughter is very much on the plain side but still, she should breed well. Lucius did try to make a contact with the Nordstrom woman for the hand of her first daughter but she wouldn't commit to anything until our current dilemma was sorted out. I think she just didn't want her daughter mixed up with Family Malfoy, especially as Narcissa would be her mother-in-law, malicious piece Narcissa. Mind you, if she had to go up against our Miss Granger, I would be hard-pressed to say who to put the galleons on."

"I thought you liked the Malfoys," Minerva teased gently, turning to face Severus and grinning when he pulled the most horrendous face she had ever seen. Perhaps the alcohol was working after all.

"Not particularly. Oh, Lucius was a good screw and a good political contact but Narcissa… never got on really well with Narcy, was fucking her husband so it sort of made friendship a bit sticky, do you see?" he sighed, blinking when Minerva's eyes widened.

"Good Lord, I always wondered if you were er…,"

"Fucking my way to the top? Already did that." Severus sighed morosely and emptied his glass again, ignoring her slightly scandalised snigger. "Oh, don't worry Minnie, I am trying to make my mind a bit more open, get drunk and open my mind but it's not working. Besides, the fact that Tom and I were lovers for years before his first fall is no secret in Death Eater circles, or that Lucius and I were lovers either for that matter."

"And does young Mr Malfoy know?"

"'Course he does," Severus blinked at her question. "Lucius gave him to me even before he was born, Draco that is, to be my godson. Minerva McGonagall! I am not a paedophile, no matter what other sins can be laid at my door. No, he gave me Draco 'cus I won't be populating the world with my get. The thought is abhorrent, believe me." He gave an artistic shudder and emptied his glass again. "You know, I think this may be working a bit. Where's the werewolf?"

"His name is Remus," Minerva snapped huffily.

"Remus John Lupin, good name but can't use it or I might give him away by accident. Best to create an observable distance, better to call him 'werewolf', safer, do you see? He's got a nice arse though, and he doesn't mind if you get a bit sentimental with him, likes his balls rubbed, too."

"Do I really want to know that?" Minerva muttered, hiding her chuckle in her glass.

"Probably not, wouldn't do you any good, anyway," the younger man shrugged carelessly, slopping a little of what appeared to be his fifth whiskey in the last ten minutes. Minerva blushed even brighter when Remus came up behind him and laid a hand on the back of his neck. Severus turned and glanced up then smirked a little. "Don't you?"

"Don't I what?" Remus asked, looking from one to the other, puzzled by the odd look on Minerva's face.

"Like your balls rubbed," Severus stated matter-of-factly and Remus blushed vividly while Minerva giggled like a teenager.

"I think, Sev, you are completely waz-arsed," he spluttered, wondering why there was nowhere to hide when you needed it.

"Humm, well, that was the intention, but it's not working really well. You said yourself I was supposed to relax and open up a bit," Severus smirked, snaking an arm around Remus' waist and pulling him into his lap.

Remus shook his head and smiled apologetically at the older woman who was grinning knowingly at them both. "We were wondering if we could get inside his head earlier."

"I don't think it's his head he plans to get into," Minerva replied and tried not to giggle and choke on her drink as Remus gulped and caught at Severus' wandering hands. "You should take him to bed while he's in the mood," she remarked and spluttered another giggle when Severus stood up and dumped Remus on the floor on his bum.

"What are you doing down there?" he asked puzzled, shaking his head as he offered a hand to pull the smaller man up again. "You want to go somewhere quiet and get naked?"

"Severus Snape, you are so dead tomorrow," Remus muttered but Minerva noticed he didn't say no. Still grinning, she toasted them with her glass and watched as they wandered away, Severus staggering slightly.

"Snape seems to be somewhat drunk," Alastor remarked curiously as he took the vacated seat at her table having noted her blushes and giggles.

"Severus Snape is totally legless," Minerva remarked with a laugh, as she shared a toast with her old friend.

oo0oo

Remus shut the door after them with a decided snap the turned to stare at Severus, wondering if he should be angry or amused as the taller man bent to poke the bed springs curiously.

"So why the attempt to drink yourself into oblivion?" he decided to ask finally.

"Over the years I have noted that good Firewhiskey always tends to loosen my tongue somewhat so I am usually careful how much I drink. After this afternoon's discussion I thought it might be the perfect time to experiment, and you know, I think it might be working. I had a think about it and decided there had to be a few conditions fulfilled before I could possibly allow someone into my mind after the last time."

"And what happened last time?" Remus asked quietly so as not to disturb his mood.

"I slipped Tom a potion and discovered he didn't really love me, he just wanted my knowledge and my magic. It was a nasty let-down, a blow to the ego and I … chose to leave him for the Light after that." The sigh was gusting, a single tear escaping, much to Remus' shock. "Made me violently ill for nearly a week, but as we had been eating oysters, I had the perfect excuse."

"So your experience with being a caring, sharing sort of guy is not salubrious," Remus remarked softly, sitting down beside Severus and stroking his back gently.

"Humm, you might say that. So, when I was thinking, I decided I needed a partner who was at least grounded in _Legilimency…_,"

"That would be Moody or Shacklebolt," Remus interjected, leaning over to grab a notepad and quill.

Severus snorted. "Perhaps but they also have to be intelligent enough to ask the right questions."

"Again, the two Auror fulfil that criterion too, but so does Minerva or I, I suppose…."

"Whom I thought was trustworthy."

Remus opened his mouth to make a comment but Severus clapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head in disgust. "Shut up, werewolf! The last qualification is someone whom I would consent to have physical contact with and…,"

Remus swallowed hard then sniggered. "That lets out Minerva then," he managed around the long, gagging fingers, making Severus snigger too.

"Wouldn't mind taking on Shacklebolt but never Moody, or Minnie, not even on a bet! So, that leaves you as the best pick, even though you are shite at _Legilimency_," Severus finished logically then sniggered. "Besides, like I told Minerva, you have a nice arse."

"You didn't? Oh Merlin, Sev, how am I supposed to face the woman again? Damn it all, Sev, you are the living end at times, aren't you. Did she blush much?" he added curiously as Severus nuzzled his neck and began to remove his cardigan.

"Like a beacon," Severus told him with relish. "I think we can do it, between us, if I grab your mind then pull you into mine and if I am buried in your body it will complete the circuit, if you get my meaning. As for the questions, I need to remember the key word I used to parcel up the memories of what I had done to Dumbledore. You need to help me look for places I can't see any more. Oh, don't worry about it; you'll see what I mean when we get to it. In the mean time," he almost purred as he drew Remus closer to his body. "Let's get to it."

Remus laughed but complied, helping his partner strip away their clothes. Remus was no stranger to sex having had more than his share of partners. Unlike his expectations, Severus seemed determined to make love to him, not simply shag for an ulterior purpose, no matter what he implied, and Remus knew the difference intimately. After Sirius had been taken to Azkaban Remus had, to use the words if his Alpha, '_fought and fucked his way through most of the packs in Great Britain.'_

Easing the smaller man back, Severus made a determined effort to memorise every scar and hair whorl through his lips and hands, stroking and tending every inch of Remus until he felt as if he would explode despite Severus never touching the most aching parts of him. He knew he begged and whimpered unashamedly, tangling his fingers in that fine, dark hair and trying to pull his head up to where he wanted it but Severus merely snickered and resisted his urging until he felt it was time.

Sliding up Remus' body, he boldly captured his mouth, caressing his bottom lip teasingly until the werewolf opened his mouth. Severus introduced his tongue in one firm thrust, timed perfectly with the thrust of his hips that made Remus arch and cry out, the sounds caught and swallowed by Severus' mouth. After the initial thrust, neither moved as Remus adjusted to the painful intrusion, so shockingly unexpected after Severus gentle and sensual build-up. Panting, Remus tentatively moved his hips, willing himself to relax and accept the invasion while Severus lifted his head and smiled in sly satisfaction at the last remnants of pain still caught in his partner's eyes.

"Why?" Remus asked, biting his lip as his partner's weight was settled more firmly onto his hips.

"Sometimes we all need a little reminding that there is always a price to pay for what we receive. I have invaded you, and in return, you will invade me, that is how the game works."

"I would never deliberately hurt you, Severus," Remus protested and gasped as Severus withdrew only to plunge again.

"You will, whether you know it or not, you will. Wrap your legs around me, Remus, and hold on, this may be a bumpy ride." Severus bared his yellowed teeth and pumped slowly, the long languid strokes so different to his initial attack.

Remus shuddered and relaxed, realising his partner was playing Slytherin games with him again. Not once did Severus lose eye contact after the initial thrust, his black eyes dancing onyx flame until all Remus could see was that black gaze devouring him, caressing his mind and stealing his soul. Since Severus already possessed his soul, he did not mind the fall and was content to enjoy the oneness the taller man was creating. Tentatively, he slid his hands down over Severus' long back, feeling the muscles of his backside and thighs flex with every smooth, slow, stroke. There was no hurry in the man now, the rhythm as slow as Sunday and he moved as if he had all day. Charmed, Remus raised his head a little to capture the thin pale lips, noticing as he moved up, the eyes came closer until he could see nothing except those black on black eyes.

The space was black, only a pair of dancing flames shedding any light on the scene, a cobbled path under his feet. He stumbled a little over the uneven ground as he moved toward the torches only to realise they were held by two shapes. The two cloaked figures were similar enough to be brothers, standing side by side but Remus knew Severus had no siblings so he wondered who they were until the one on the right raised his torch and smiled slyly.

"You always were smarter than the rest of the crew," he remarked in Severus' voice. "You can call me Snape, that's Severus, he doesn't speak much. Come on, let's see what we can see. Have you thought of the questions yet?"

"What … what do you mean? Questions? Oh, oh I see, to find the information. Alright, let's think. You hid the information in a box or a parcel, yes? How do you do that?"

"What do you mean, how do I do that?" Snape mimicked cruelly. "I thought you were bright?"

"Behave yourself! How can I know what to look for if you don't tell me," Remus reprimanded firmly, making Severus smile and sidle up to his side, running a long hand down his arm suggestively.

"Quit that! We have a serious problem, no time for hanki-panki," Snape snapped in disgust. Severus stopped with a shrug but tipped Remus a wink as he moved away a little. "Very well, I choose the information I want to keep safe then I imagine it is all stuffed into a rememberall with a word lock on it. Then I hide it away somewhere in my mind, simple really."

"So, we are looking for a rememberall," Remus mused. "Where do you usually store stuff like that?"

Huffing in disgust, Snape seemed to lead the way through corridors and darkened rooms until he came to the library, a vast vaulted space with books and scrolls shoved into every corner. "As you can see, it is an extensive collection," he said facetiously, waving a hand around behind him.

Remus was impressed, wandering over to read a title here and an illuminated letter there, Severus right behind him, touching every few seconds. It was both disconcerting and amusing as the Potions Master was not a demonstrative person at the best of times but this inner part of him was hungry for human contact. Snape, who obviously represented the intelligence, was not amused and refused to even acknowledge that his counterpart was behaving in such a shameless fashion. "Is there any sort of order in here?" Remus asked, slipping an arm around Severus and giving him a hug.

"Of course there is! That section is school, that section is College, that section is research, that section is people, that section is events." A dismissive wave accompanied each bitten off statement.

"And that section there?" Remus asked, pointing to a narrow crack in the stone wall. His attention made Severus stiffen and Snape to snarl.

"Bad stuff," Severus murmured with a shiver.

"Can we go in?"

Both manifestations of Severus Snape looked nervous but then the Snape straightened and nodded decisively. "Come on, there's a lot of nightmares locked up in here. Be careful they don't get you!"

Remus thought he knew what nightmares were but walking into Severus' was horrifying. Coming face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange in her own dungeon, blood dripping from the flesh she had just excised was horrific. A whip wielding termagant tried to drive him away, the stinging lash cutting across his two guides making them both flinch and howl until Remus cast a banishing spell over it, causing it to fly away from them. Other things tried to attack, sneaking, howling, flying, crawling until Remus was almost exhausted from holding _Protego_ over his companions. Snape didn't say much but he consented to press as close to Remus' small figure as his counterpart Severus.

Finally, the horrors stopped attacking; their numbers falling back almost as if they were baffled by this new player in the game of mental torture but as they withdrew a new phenomenon emerged, a pale light in the distance that seemed to grow closer. On a pillar of rock in the middle of a cleared space, a rememberall was almost enshrined, glowing with a compelling light that drew as well as repelled. Remus and the two aspects of Severus Snape had trouble approaching even thought they yearned to pick up the small ball and peer into its depths. Remus managed to overcome the spells, and the reluctant dragging of his two companions, to lift the sphere to eye-level. It held a scene, a sunlit scene of calm and pleasant aspect but it made Severus keen softly and Snape stiffen away from them both. Curious, Remus peered forward and gasped as Professor Dumbledore and Severus stood under a tree talking. "You cannot ask that of me!" The image of Snape yelped, horror written large upon his face.

"I cannot, and yet I do, my son. Think like the Slytherin you are and not the Gryffindor you might have been. If my death will forward your position then you will kill me with not a thought to the consequences, do you understand. Reclaiming your place at Tom's side is vital to the war effort and I will have your promise Severus, I will have your word you will take the chance if it becomes necessary without baulking at the final hurdle."

"Headmaster… Albus… you can't ask that of me, I beg you!"

"Remember your promise, Severus, _dharicz caz, to venture's end_." Albus pressed without hesitation, and the potent phrase wrapped them both in the spoken promise.

Snape and Severus let out a horrifying screech of loss, pain and desolation, making Remus jump and clutch his chest to stop his heart pounding free. Something large and unseen grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tossed him out into a body that was in the process of orgasming convulsively, even as Severus hovering above him tossed back his head and let out a shattering cry mixed of ecstasy and agony, his own orgasm taking him hard.

Panting and gasping, Severus collapsed over Remus, only the shudder of sobs marking him as still in the land of the conscious. Wrapping both arms around his partner, Remus gently rolled them to the side and disengaged carefully, summoning towels and warm damp cloths to clean and freshen them. Finally, what seemed like hours later, Severus moved of his own accord and raised a shaking hand to brush the hair from Remus' eyes, placing a careful kiss on his cheek before dropping his head back onto the pillow again.

"That God-damned promise, that accursed and benighted promise, I should have known."

"Want to tell me about it?" Remus asked gently, returning his salute with equal gentleness.

For a moment he thought Severus would not reply then the man drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Years ago, when I first left Tom, I went to Dumbledore and pledged my help. The promise we used was _dharicz caz _in High Court tongue it means the promise holds until the venture is ended. When Tom was defeated, I thought it was over but then he returned and the venture was not complete so the promise reasserted itself in full force. Of course Albus held me to it, even in the most abhorrent of circumstances; he made me keep my promise. It was as if he knew I would have to kill him at one point or another and he made me also promise that I would use it to my full advantage, without fear or hesitation. And I did Remy, I did. I spat the curse at him without fear or hesitation but I also cast _Protego_, my own version of it, wandless and wordless and more effective than any of you _loyas khyk_ realised. Thus he was killed but not dead, merely suspended in a kind of limbo where the vampires go to rest and regenerate after centuries of life."

"Do you know how to undo it now?" Remus asked trying not to seem too eager.

"Yes, I do."


	29. Consequences of a Year Out of Time

**Chapter 28** – _Consequences of a Year Out of Time_

**Warning:** **Some coarse language.**

"So, Old Man, now we know, don't we?" Minerva said, glancing at the portrait that graced her wall and did not move. It was the first time she had entered her office since she had left the Room of Requirement three days before. The information Severus and Remus had given her had taken a lot of time to digest and a course of action to be decided upon. "It is not often people are granted a second chance, but as luck would have it, I do not intend to waste it, just so you know," she added with a smile that was as old as womankind. The rest of the portraits looked puzzled, but the Headmistress did not enlighten them as she finished putting away her scrolls and books, surveying the office with a fond eye.

The Gryphon at the door announced a visitor, and she seated herself before allowing the doors to open and admit the newcomer. "Severus, this is a surprise, can I help you?" she asked. As they had just parted ways at breakfast it was indeed a surprise and perhaps not a welcome one as the man looked as grim as was possible.

"I am sorry to intrude, Minerva, but what I need to discuss is not for the Great Hall nor would it sit well on top of breakfast."

"Ominous. Tea?"

"No!" Severus snapped impatiently, jumping to his feet and pacing the hearthrug in short choppy steps. "It concerns Lupin…."

"Remus? But he was at breakfast, he is…"

"Minerva!" Severus protested, making chopping motions as he swirled in a billow of robes. "Will you please stop speculating and _listen_? Thank you! Very well, as you know, Lupin has had a year without transformations and he has recovered dramatically, in weight, fitness and spirit. He is as fit and as strong as he can be. But if he is again subjected to the rigours of monthly transformations, he will slip backwards until he eventually is exhausted beyond even a werewolf's ability to heal."

"Yes, Severus, I think anyone who has concern for Remus realises this rather daunting truth," Minerva remarked heavily. "There is the Wolfsbane potion, you make for him. It does help."

"Oh yes, _Wolfsbane_, it turns the raging wolf into a sleepy, docile beast, stops it ripping at its own flesh and tearing Remus to pieces as it slumbers the moon away, vulnerable and incapable of defending itself under any circumstances, " Severus repeated in a high, sing-song voice that grated on Minerva's nerves.

"I know it's not ideal but it is better than the alternative!" the Headmistress snapped heatedly.

"I've been working on it," Severus said softly, cutting the budding tirade off short. "I believe I have changed the potion so that it only takes one dose, twenty-four hours before moonrise, no week of disgusting draughts. It does not affect the physical change, only the mental one. I believe it allows the werewolf to have human intelligence, temper control and the ability to think rationally, while it does not destroy the less dangerous instincts that drive werewolves."

Minerva jumped up and grabbed his hands gripping them tightly. "Oh, Severus, that is fantastic! Just think of the difference such an improvement could make, Remus could actually function during the full moon rather than being vulnerable and unable to defend himself if it is needed. You really are brilliant!"

Severus nodded acceptance of her praise. "Yes, it is brilliant… if it works. Minerva, the only way to test it is to feed it to a werewolf and see what happens. The only werewolf I know is Remus and I assume he would be willing to be a guinea pig, but I need an observer, someone to watch and test the potion, someone who would be safe from the wolf if it failed."

"Ah," Minerva said delicately. "And so you come to me as an Animagus, to enlist my aid as an observer."

"You are astute, intelligent and able to observe without projecting your own expectations onto the situation," Severus listed logically. "We have two days before it is too late to take the potion; will that be enough time to decide?"

"I have already decided," Minerva said firmly, picking up a quill and dashing off a note. When a house-elf popped in to her call, she asked it to contact Remus Lupin immediately.

oo0oo

Remus sniffed delicately then gagged. "It still smells like shite," he commented and knocked back the brew in one long swallow. "Tastes like shite too." He gagged as he patted his lips to hold the potion down.

"You must refrain from eating or drinking for at least half an hour or the potion would be neutralised," Severus instructed flatly, retrieving the goblet and shrinking it before slipping it into his pocket. "Minerva will stay with you tomorrow at the Shrieking Shack and observe your behaviour. You will write down your own observations later so I might improve the potion if there are any problems."

"Yes, Severus," Remus said docilely making the dark man glance piercingly at him. He suddenly looked up and grinned, offering him a wink which made him snort. "Well, Minerva, the moon comes up at eight thirty-five tomorrow night, so shall we met at about eight fifteen and get settled in for the evening?"

"Certainly, do you want me to bring anything?"

"No, just yourself."

oo0oo

"Are you alright, Hermione? You look a little pale," Lavender commented, brushing her hair and tying it up in an elaborate plait.

Hermione glanced across at her dorm mate and sighed. "I didn't sleep very well last night, a couple of nasty dreams," she commented, pulling her robe straight and smoothing the Gryffindor badge with a fingertip.

"Or you missed being wrapped around a warm body," Parvati teased gently, her own black hair plaited and tied off with a silk bow. "I miss Colin, annoying little git that he is," she added fondly. "Oh well, term starts tomorrow, and then we won't have time to miss anyone; we are going to be far too busy to even breathe too heavily!"

The girls chuckled as they left the bathroom and made their way down to the Great Hall and breakfast. It wasn't easy being back in the general school population for any of them. Things people spoke of were a year in their past and they all had to struggle to remember what the heck people were talking about. They also had to remember not to speak of things that had happened in their stolen year, quite a feat for all of them. Most of them found it easier to stick their heads back into their NEWTs textbooks and start to study very hard, although the work seemed to be a lot easier than any of them remembered. Even Ron had remarked on how much easier it was to remember stuff now and he hadn't fallen asleep even once when reviewing.

Hermione glared at her breakfast, nibbling on her toast disinterestedly. She had never been interested in breakfast as a meal but only came to keep her housemates happy. As usual she had a book propped up against the pumpkin juice jug and a notepad at her hand for jotting down thoughts, questions and interesting facts. Harry and Ron were busily scarfing down enough food to keep an army happy, one on either side of her. Across the room at the Slytherin table, Draco slathered butter over his toast, the jam pot on hand ready to be poured over the butter at an inch deep. Gregory Goyle said something and Draco turned to pull a face at him, slapping the back of his skull disgustedly. Parkinson and Crabbe laughed, that slut Parkinson draping herself across Draco's shoulder and swirling her fingers in his hair.

Harry nudged her with a knowing look while Ron laughed aloud. "I can hear your teeth grinding," he teased quietly in a sing-song tone. "Settle down, Hermione, he isn't encouraging her, he's just trying to blend."

"Huh! One of these days, Ron Weasley, you will be in this position, then we'll see how the very gentle Weasley temper handles it," Hermione shot back equally quietly.

"Okay, you guys, settle down," Harry murmured, picking up his juice. "It was full moon last night; I want to find out if Remus is okay. I think we will be allowed to go up to his room at lunch time since it's still the holidays."

"I have some Honeyduke's chocolate left over from Christmas," Ron volunteered.

"He'd probably be glad of it," Harry agreed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. "How about you, Hermione, want to come up too?"

"Hum, yes, I will. I wonder if Remus has any idea of how to form a shield charm and a Patronus both at the same time?"

"Ask him, it may keep his mind occupied with things other than post-transformation blues," Harry agreed cheerfully.

The guest quarters were in what they all thought of as the neutral part of the castle, away from any house territory. They were all surprised when the door opened at their first knock and Remus smiled politely, the smile turning welcoming as he saw who was there. "Come in, come in, how are you all? I was just about to go down and give my report to Severus. Can I offer you tea?"

"You are awfully spry for someone who is in post transformation after a year of missed events." Harry grinned, taking a seat on the sofa and studying his godfather carefully.

Remus laughed. "I really am fine. Severus has tinkered with the Wolfsbane potion and made it much more effective. It is so much better, it makes the old potion seem like nothing and the recovery time is halved. Admittedly, I felt pretty ragged this morning, but a few extra hours sleep and I am ready to take on the world again."

"You sound good too," Harry nodded then grinned slyly. "Does this mean Honeydukes loses their best customer?"

"In your dreams," Remus retorted, then sniffed a little. "Almond and honey, isn't it?"

Harry grinned as Ron produced the sweets with a laugh, plopping them on the table beside the plate of chocolate biscuits. Hermione smiled too and leaned forward to take her cup of tea, not seeing the flash of surprise that crossed Remus' face for a second. The werewolf sniffed again then shook his head very slightly, perhaps he was mistaken.

oo0oo

Aberforth Dumbledore was not used to being invited to afternoon tea at Hogwarts. Even when his little brother had been the headmaster he had been a _persona non gratis_ to some extent, a shady character whose presence might contaminate the innocent children that made up the school population. He sat opposite the headmistress, enjoyed the very fine shortbread and listened to her chit chat about this and that with a blandly interested face.

Minerva studied the man before her intently; his resemblance to Albus remarkable enough to be a painful reminder of how much she missed the aggravating old bat. Severus had asked her to sound out Aberforth regarding the Rite of Raising he was planning to perform, hopefully in mid February when the planetary alignment and the arithmantic calculations were optimum for success. So far the old man had refused to say anything about his brother beyond an acknowledgement that he was indeed the brother of Albus Dumbledore.

The unsatisfactory meeting wound down as Aberforth finished his tea and began a polite leave-taking, knowing very well how frustrated Minerva McGonagall was. The old girl had been the object of his brother's affections, albeit from afar for years. Aberforth had often advised Albus to go for it, to simply sweep the old cat off her feet, but Albus, despite being a top class wizard, was a right prat when it came to women. Probably not the sort of thing one said about one of the icons of the wizarding world, but to Aberforth he had been more in the line of an annoying little brother than a great man. Not that he still didn't miss the idiot, he did, but there it was, dead was dead and nothing could be done about it.

"Perhaps we could do this again some time," Minerva said desperately as the older man was about to leave her office.

He stopped, one hand on the door latch and glanced at her over his shoulder, a decision made in a split second. "Minerva, what the hell do you want from me?" he demanded with shocking directness. "I'm not Albus, I never was, and I don't think you want a substitute for the old goat, so what is it?"

Minerva's eyes narrowed and she glared before chuffing a sigh. "I am hopeless at these stupid games, really. Very well. Albus is not dead, well, not entirely dead anyway. When Severus killed him, he did not kill him completely but used some sort of family magic to … send his spirit to limbo. We need your cooperation to bring him back."

Aberforth turned and studied her intently. "So that's it. Oh, come on, Minnie, that travesty of a funeral was just that, a travesty. Albus did everything in his power to avoid huge state shows of emotion, and yet there was a public funeral with marble and ministers and the entire furore that accompanies those two things. Our own Master of Rites was so put out he was livid but no matter what I said I was overruled and marginalised. Damn that sneaky little git, always playing his games of intrigue and making us all dance to his bloody tune! Well, I think we had better sit down and drink a bit more of that very good tea, don't you? We do have something to talk about after all."

"I'll get Severus and he can explain what needs to be done."

oo0oo

Lucius Malfoy stared at the wall, not really seeing the elegantly flocked wallpaper of the study. His Lord had given him a task and implanted an image in his mind along with an imperative that did not allow room for any hesitation. What he wanted was a very ordinary thing, of all items, a plush toy shaped like a small black Grim. While Lucius would never question his master's orders, this was definitely not something he had ever anticipated, an assault on the stronghold of the Wizengamot's power to liberate a soft toy from the Ministry, possibly held in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or with the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries.

Narcissa glided in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. Lucius stiffened then relaxed, if Narcissa was willing to be affectionate, who was he to argue but he did wonder what she wanted. His darling wife was not a subtle woman when it came to gratifying her own needs. Winding around him like a sensuous white cat, she slid into his lap and stared up at him, batting her artfully darkened lashes. "What are you thinking of?" she purred in his ear.

"Business," he murmured, glancing down and appreciating her beauty for what it was, a work of art and artifice. His marriage to Narcissa Black had been arranged from the cradle, and he had married her in good faith at his father's insistence, despite being in love with Severus Snape. He could admit that now, now that time and experience had taught their own sharp lessons. Narcissa had given him a son and heir, done her duty to House Malfoy so to speak, but she was not the girl he had married. After the birth of their son, she had become the Dark Lord's lover and that changed her as it had changed almost everyone whom He touched.

Now, when he looked at her dispassionately, Narcissa and her sister Bellatrix were two of a kind, cruel, vicious and obsessed, although Bella's stay in Azkaban had made her madness very obvious while Narcissa hid hers behind a perfectly groomed façade. Still, she was the perfect sounding board for his planning, as long as he remembered that anything he said to her would be immediately reported to their Lord. A handy little conduit was Narcissa and if used correctly, she could pass anything he wanted the Lord to know, without even realising she was being used. He smiled and stroked her back, inhaling the very expensive scent of her. "My beautiful, beautiful wife, tell me, how would you go about entering the Department of Magical Law enforcement and locating a single item amongst the detritus of ages they have accumulated?"

"Why on earth would you even chance such a silly thing?" Narcissa asked doubtfully.

"Our Lord wants the item for a ceremony on the 29th of February so we have three weeks to organise it."

"Ah."

oo0oo

The school barn owl delivered the note with an impatient shake of its leg then flew off without waiting for a treat or even a reply. Draco made a rude gesture at the retreating creature then unfolded the parchment and read it quickly, pulling another impatient face in disgust. Pansy looked over attentively but knew better than to question Draco whose temper was set at a hair trigger these days. Crabbe and Goyle merely blinked as their lord and master got up to pace in agitation then swirled to point at all three of them. "I have to be somewhere tonight; I want you three to cover for me. Don't ask where, you dunderhead, I'm not going to tell you, am I? Just make sure I am not missed," he snarled at Pansy and flung himself out of the common room.

"Should we follow him and make sure he is not disturbed?" Pansy mused aloud.

After a few moments Goyle shook his head and Crabbe followed suit, making Pansy grin evilly. "Scared, boys?" she taunted nastily.

Vincent Crabbe turned his muddy brown eyes on her in a rather disconcerting stare. "If he had a note and he has business, it may be the Lord's work, and I am not prepared to disobey the Lord just 'cus you are curious, are you, Greg?"

Goyle shook his head slowly and emphatically before going back to studying his textbook. He had no idea why he was taking NEWTs apart from the fact that his parents wanted him to stay at school so he could guard Draco Malfoy which was a good political move. Still there were worse things to do, really, like listen to Pansy Parkinson, who was such a stupid bitch at times. Better to listen to Draco or Vincent who were more sensible and good at telling how the politics were going. Sighing massively, he continued to decipher the page.

oo0oo

"Merlin, I missed you. Are you alright? What's wrong, Honey? Talk to me."

Hermione giggled, a slightly hysterical note in her voice. "I would if I could get a word in edgewise," she teased, returning his kisses with equal fervour. "We – I have a problem…"

"You aren't ill, are you? What's wrong, has someone cursed you?"

"Draco! Will you settle down! Honestly, you are worse than a first-year Hufflepuff!"

He made a noise rather like an indignant squawk but did settle down a little. "I worry, that's all. You are all alone amongst that herd of Gryffindors; what if they turned rabid?"

"Draco!" The sound of a slap echoed in the dim classroom, followed quickly by a giggle and a rustle suggestive of two people wrestling playfully. "Okay, are you ready for this? Remember a few subjective months ago, probably around the beginning of November after we were all told we passed our first-year exam?"

"Yes," Draco acknowledged, pulling her deeper into his lap and nuzzling her ear through her abundant hair.

"Stop that! Well, no, don't really stop that, just listen, please. Remember the little competition we were playing with each other? Yes, see how many times…."

"Four times, wasn't it?" Draco mused then laughed wickedly. "We'll have to try that one again, we are better practised now."

"Yes, well, perhaps we are, but I can only remember us casting the contraception charm three times," Hermione said softly, nervousness making her squirm in his lap.

There was a strange stillness to the air for a few seconds then Draco breathed out very carefully. "When I think about it, I only remember three times too. Are you…"

"Don't worry, if you don't want to…"

"Shut up, Wild Hair, don't even think such a thing! Three months along? An August baby then? Wow! My God, we're going to be parents…. Oh my God, my father will kill us! How can I possibly acknowledge you and the child without tripping the wards and the Generation Charm? As soon as we get married it is going to set off every alarm in Malfoy unless we get married under the Fidelius Charm, yes, that might work. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! We have to tell Severus; he will know what to do."

Before Hermione could even collect her wits, she was being hustled down to a strange part of the castle where she had never been before. The door Draco pounded on was of deep ebony wood, iron bound and as solid as the rock that surrounded it. Draco looked ready to tear it down with his bare hands, but then the panels swung aside to reveal the Potions Master, his robes discarded, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Before Severus could say a word, Draco barged past him, towing Hermione after him.

"To what do I owe this … pleasure?" Snape asked sarcastically as he quickly unrolled his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs as if he had been caught naked but not before Hermione noticed the dark mark glowing deeply black on his pale forearm. "You do realise, Draco, that I usually _invite_ people that I want invading my space?"

"Look, Uncle Severus, I don't have time for the niceties, I am in deep, deep shit and I would like for us all to survive it intact. You were the first person I thought of who might be able to help."

Severus glared at them both, noting the twin panicked expressions and tightly clasped hands then groaned dropping his head into his hands. "You didn't go and knock the Gryffindor Lioness up, did you? Bloody Hell, Draco! I thought I told you about the birds and the bees when you were ten! I _know_ I taught you the _Conceptus_ charm when you were twelve! And you, Miss Granger, didn't some idiotic female tell you about the _Conceptus_ charm when you were in third year? I thought _you_ at least, would have better sense than that?" Striding across the room, Severus flung open a cabinet and poured a couple of large whiskeys, passing one to Draco, then waving an impatient hand which amazingly produced a glass of pumpkin juice for Hermione. "Merlin! Now you're really up the fucking creek, you idiots! If Lucius finds out, he will have you both skinned and the proposed offspring pickled before the day is out! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Hermione couldn't help it; she giggled then buried her nose in the glass when he glared at her bitterly. Draco sipped his whiskey then grimaced in disgust. "I realise that, Severus, which is why we are here instead of announcing it in the Daily Prophet," he drawled with equal sarcasm. "I thought you might have come up with something a bit more original instead of stealing my lines! I haven't said the words to her yet in case it triggers the Generations Charms at Malfoy, which would be a dead give-away, don't you think?"

"'Dead' being the operative word!" Severus agreed morosely then sighed. "Do you really want to do this? There is a way, but it is not exactly straightforward or considered good breeding but it is somewhat legal."

Draco smiled, then smiled reassuringly at Hermione who was looking a little confused. "Yes, we do want to do this, very much so, no matter how."

"Very well, then, on your heads be it." He rose carefully and selected a few small bottles and vials from various shelves around the room. Opening a cupboard he extracted a golden challis with exquisite chasing around the rim, set with emeralds and large square-cut black onyxes. It was a beautiful piece of art, but he didn't seem to notice as he mixed unmeasured quantities from the potions bottles, tapped the edge with his wand. Using his wand transfigured to a brush, he dipped into the concoction to paint some designs in a wide circle on the flagstones of the floor. Waving his visitors to the centre of the circle he had created, he raised his wand and muttered a spell, using a minimal flick of his wrist to bring to life a wall of glowing light that enclosed them in an opalescent bubble. Draco seemed very impressed and bowed slightly as his godfather turned to eye them both flatly. Hermione simply looked confused but willing.

"Right! Join hands, left to left and right to right, don't let go. Give me a positive or a negative answer to the questions I will ask you both. Draco Malfoy, do you want to propose a contract to Hermione Granger, of the matrimonial stamp?"

"If I was able to say the words with impunity, that would be a positive with all my heart and completely binding until death parts all, or beyond," Draco said, staring meaningfully at Hermione over their joined hands.

"Very well. Hermione Granger, would you accept a contract of the matrimonial persuasion, if it was proposed by Draco Malfoy, even in its most binding form?"

"It sounds like something I would willingly and completely embrace, if it was possible," Hermione agreed with a soft smile and a catch in her voice as she finally caught the meaning of the bizarre ceremony.

Severus sighed troubled. "Draco, if a child was proposed as an offspring to such a contract would you consider said offspring as the legal heir of your body, no matter what its conception?"

"Without a single doubt," Draco confirmed emphatically.

Severus made a small gesture that brightened the light wall surrounding them, then let out a faint sigh. "Hermione, if circumstances were as stated, would you agree to the conditions thus outlined?"

Hermione had to think about how to answer that one for a moment then grinned. "It seems a reasonable surmise to me."

"Very well, the proposal, acceptance and inclusions have been stated and accepted, now the tricky part." Severus finished his whiskey and poured another before picking up his wand to extend the light wall and cross to the far bookshelf to retrieve a tome of heroic proportions.

Draco raised an eyebrow but Hermione had never seen such a book so she was in ignorance as Severus laid it on his table and carefully tapped the lock with his wand. "Because the Malfoy Book of Generations is not available to us at this time and Draco is already listed as my godson, I will record you both in the Snape Book of Generations and you can make corrections to the Malfoy Book whenever it becomes politically correct to do so," he said still turning the pages with careful fingers. Using the tip of his wand, Severus Snape etched the new pairing he had just created underneath his own name in his Family Book of Generations.

Deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic the new joining and changes to the old notation were recorded, the Snape charm twanging discordantly under the mismatch while the Malfoy charm remained unmoved. An answering glow came from the written words Severus had just inscribed that flickered for a second before turning to pure gold on the parchment, and both Severus and Draco heaved deep sighs of relief.

"Well, it's accepted as legal. Happy Valentine's Day, you may now kiss the bride," Severus said wryly, shaking his head.


	30. Fathers, Sons and… Phoenixes

**Chapter 29** – _Fathers, Sons and… Phoenixes_

Minerva McGonagall was furious -- no, she was beyond furious through livid and out the other side to eerily calm and collected. She sat behind her imposing teak desk, the top completely clear but for her wand, and polished to a mirror shine. She waited until the clock struck two and the single knock sounded at the door. Without speaking, she picked up her wand and opened the door, allowing the tall, dark man to enter silently, as he usually did. Her eyes never left his face as he glided closer, but she did not offer him a seat and he made no move to seek one out. The silence stretched painfully as the portraits leaned forward in their frames, eager to see how this contest of wills developed. She finally spoke.

"How dare you?" she hissed, so softly it was but a breath of sound in the stillness, the precursor of the storm to come. "How dare you challenge my authority in this school on any matter, especially one that involves two major Houses and two historically important figures?"

Severus Snape raised one eyebrow and stared down his nose at the older woman, the haughty look never faltering in the face of her wrath. Almost disdainfully, he pointedly glanced at the eager, gloating portraits and raised an empty hand, making a gracefully languid gesture.

Minerva reared back as the blast of magic flooded the room, slamming the portraits back into their frames, encasing them both in an impenetrable bubble of silence before she could react. Her wand came up defensively, but he didn't move past that one, rather terrifying burst of wandless, silent magic, more powerful than many wizards could cast with a wand and shouted spell. The portraits looked horrified, furious and in some cases relieved to be locked out of the upcoming battle.

"PMSing, Minerva, really, how unprofessional! I make no challenge on your authority, _Headmistress_, I merely deal with a House problem as swiftly and as efficiently as was possible under the circumstances."

"A House problem? A _House_ problem? You performed an illegal marriage between two minors, only one of which was of your house, the other was of mine and therefore mine to take care of!" Minerva's voice rose to a screech as she voiced her sheer fury at his audacity. "How dare you break the law under my very nose then cite it as merely a House Problem, you conniving Slytherin bastard!"

Severus smirked, driving her blood pressure up another few points. "And how would the Golden Griffindorks have dealt with the problem? Trumpet it aloud that one of their golden girls had gotten herself knocked up by a Slytherin Snake? Cast her out to the mercy of the pure-blood aristocracy without a hint of remorse and stood back in self-righteous anger as they tore her and her unborn apart and hung her carcass up for all other presumptuous Mudbloods to take the lesson from? Is that what you want, Minnie, is that how it should have been? Are you so caught up in your own little power-plays that you forget who and what you are? If I have to lie, cheat and steal, warp my Family Charms and cast an Unforgivable on the whole bloody Wizengamot to keep one of my Slytherins safe from Tom, then so be it! If the choice is between subverting custom or giving even one of my little snakes up to the Dark, then I will tear this whole world of ours apart in the effort to keep my son safe, do you understand that? As for usurping your precious authority, I don't give a flying fig about anyone's perceived authority, least of all yours, or Tom's or even the Ministry's! You can all go hex yourselves Unforgivably, do you understand, all of you!" Magic, uncontrolled and deadly battered at both figures leaning forward on their fists screaming in each other's faces across the ancient desk that had witnessed more than one of these battles in its long existence.

Minerva gaped at her opponent then snapped her mouth shut long enough to take a deep, calming breath. She had indeed been full of self-righteous wrath at what she saw as Severus' unwarranted interference in the chain of school command, but his unwitting revelations shed a whole new light on his conduct and ethics. Still glaring, she eased back and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ears, giving the younger man a chance to master himself and draw in his wild magic. "So, you would destroy our whole world to save your son, would you?" she asked flatly, allowing herself to slowly sink back into her chair.

Severus mastered his temper and slowly resettled himself, pulling his robe straight to gain a little time. In losing his temper he may have said things he had not meant to reveal to anyone. "Some things are worth fighting for or dying for or killing for," he muttered, turning away and drawing a deep calming breath.

"Yes, they are. So, Draco _is_ your son, it was whispered at one point…."

Severus snorted and shook his head. "No, Minerva, he is not my biological child, he is my magical child. Lucius gave him to me before he was even born, to be the son we could not have together, thus he became the offspring of my magic. Because of that casually tossed bone, I can act as a parent to the boy and invoke certain spells for his nurture. He and Hermione have managed to create a life between them while they were locked away for the year. Marrying them under my Aegis was the least I could do to protect all three of them from Polite Society's wrath. It was not a challenge to your authority on my part, Minerva, it was simply expediency."

"Accepted," Minerva gusted on a sigh then glared. "PMSing indeed. Really, Severus, you never cease to amaze me!"

"Let's face it, old girl, we are both old maids with a House full of children we take personal responsibility for in all aspects of their lives. We have a lot more in common than people would credit at first glance," Severus stated blandly then sniggered at her outraged expression which slowly faded into a chuckle too.

"What are we going to do, Severus?" she asked, _accio_-ing the whiskey decanter and a couple of glasses before pouring a generous measure each.

"Looks like we are going to get waz-arsed," he commented, toasting her slightly before sipping. "Look, this is not a change of subject, but hear me out, if you will? Thank you. We are almost in a position to raise the Headmaster. When he is revived, he will not be strong and will need some time to recuperate and regain strength. After all, being almost dead takes a lot out of a person. So, we are going to have to carry on as normal until he is fit enough to take up the reins again. I think we should take him straight to the Room of Requirement and get it to slow time again. Remus has planned a small team to nurse him in there, Molly Weasley, Roger Podmore, Aberforth Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey. I think we will include Draco and Hermione in the group to give the baby a chance to develop and, if we can arrange enough time, to be born in the Room of Requirement. It will do away with the need for concealment charms and complicated questions."

"That could work. With both Poppy and Roger there, they will be able to monitor her and if the Room causes a problem, they can get her out," Minerva agreed slowly.

"Well, she got pregnant in there, so I doubt it will cause problems, but as you say, better safe than sorry. So, are we agreed?"

"We are agreed. Now, why did you lock out the portraits?"

"A few of them are not exactly reliable, Minerva, didn't you realise? More than a few held very firm views on the admission and nurturing of Muggle-borns and Mudbloods while alive. I cannot guarantee they have deserted those views in death, and I refuse to take a chance. Albus was a lot more subtle about locking them out, but my way is just as effective, although it tends to tip my hand."

"I see, well, I will be more discrete in the future. Very well, I think this meeting is over, so you may release the portraits once again," Minerva directed as they finished their whiskey and rose as one.

Bowing slightly, Severus dismissed the spell as he swirled away, not at all disappointed with the way things had gone.

oo0oo

Remus Lupin moved through the Forbidden Forest like a ghost, or a wolf, no twig crackle or leaf rustle to betray his movements. He was looking for a place he had only seen though Severus' eyes, in the shadows of his mind. Many years before, while Severus had only been a student, he had gone searching through the Forbidden Forest for potions ingredients. During one of his illegal forays he had come across a very strange grove of trees growing in a perpetually spell-warmed clearing. An olive tree, a sandalwood tree, a pepper tree and a camphor tree enclosed an area which was carpeted with aromatic herbs and low Damascus rosebushes. It was a beautiful and exotic tropical garden hidden in the midst of a Scottish forest and a wonderful place where he had often come to hide if his life became too difficult.

One day he had been caught picking roses for their petals by the arrival of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. The magnificent bird had been as shocked to see the tall, dark student as Severus had been to see him, but they had both settled down and Fawkes had sung gently for the boy who was so sad. Gradually Severus had come to learn that, while the phoenix burned and renewed itself on its wizard-made perch that was merely a phoenix's way of moulting. After much research and delving into most ancient texts Severus learned that Fawkes had to die every eight hundred and fifty four years. He would make a nest of exotic woods and aromatic plants in his private grove and there, with one clap of his wings, he would set the nest alight.

The flames would instantly kill and mummify the dying phoenix, the aromatics transferring its life essence into the egg that had been incubating in its belly. As the flames died, then the egg would hatch and the new phoenix would be born. Its final duty to its parent was to take the mummified body back to the Temple of the Sun in Egypt and lay it on the altar. Because Fawkes had chosen to belong to Dumbledore, Albus had made the grove for him so that he would never be uncomfortable over his choice.

Severus had never spoken of the grove he had found but he had always remembered it with fond reminiscence. When he and Dumbledore had hatched their audacious scheme two years before, they had both taken Fawkes' lifespan and age into consideration when making their plans. Voldemort's attack had driven the information out of Severus' head but now he remembered and the final line of the prophecy that had fascinated the trainee Aurors had become quite clear to him at last.

The grove was exactly where Severus had told him, and Remus approached it very carefully, hands away from his sides, wand still sheathed in its holster. He could hear the odd note, like a bamboo wind chime in a very light breeze, but nothing like the sweet, clear notes of a phoenix. Carefully easing the peppertree branches aside, Remus ducked into the clearing and quickly froze on the spot. He remembered Fawkes as a rooster sized creature sitting on a perch in the headmaster's study, but the bird before him was enormous, its wingspan all of fifteen feet as it rose from the untidy nest it had created for itself in the middle of the grove.

Slowly the huge beak lowered to rest upon the dull, crimson breast, the bird's plumage ragged and matted. An impression of great age and sorrow came from the creature as it slowly settled back into its nest, stretching its neck out as if too tired to hold its head up anymore.

"Fawkes?" Remus murmured, moving carefully closer. The bird stirred irritably as if annoyed at the disturbance. "I'm so sorry, but Severus asked me to come. He said you would understand my words. He said to tell you it's nearly time, five more days to go and to ask if you are still willing to give up your chance at further immortality to revive Albus Dumbledore once again?"

The bird lifted his head and croaked softly then moved its head in what could only be construed as a nod of agreement.

Remus nodded back then felt a great need to bow formally as the bird stirred again, obviously uncomfortable and in pain. "Is there anything I can do?" he was compelled to ask.

There was a distinct shaking of the head and a pointing of the beak so Remus took a seat near a blood-red rosebush and settled himself to wait.

oo0oo

Severus stared into his cauldron aghast! The potion had failed! He couldn't remember the last time he had a potion fail so spectacularly! Horrified, he scrabbled through his parchments and notes, checking his method and ingredients, ticking points off on his fingers then flopping back into his chair in disbelief. This shouldn't be happening, it couldn't be happening, too much depended on this one vital step, but now it was all disintegrating around him! All their careful planning and banked hopes were coming crashing down around his ears. It couldn't be!

Grabbing a blood filled vial off his desk, he snatched up his wand and cast a charm that made the walls shudder and Hogwarts almost cringe at the darkness of the intent. The spell enveloped the vial and curled into the deep, rich blood, working and kneading the substance until it rose in a cloud to show what the caster wanted to see.

"Aberforth!" Severus snarled, slamming a fist down onto the desk and almost cracking the ancient wood in his fury. Black anger rode him as he strode through the corridors, students and ghosts fleeing his presence as a roiling wave of sheer fury swirled around him. The gryphon guarding the stairs was literally tossed aside as the dark wizard climbed them three at a time, the doors to the Headmistress' office bursting under the assault of his ire.

Minerva looked up sharply at the detonation, her nostrils quivering. "Severus, what is the meaning of --"

"He's not the full brother!" Severus roared, thrusting the telltale vial at the woman in his fury. "Aberforth, he is only a half brother to Albus, not the full thing at all! He's all but useless to our purpose! Why the hell didn't he tell us that in the first bloody place, it would only have taken a few seconds to alter the Ceremony to suit! That idiot! He has endangered us all!"

"Severus, will you please stop shouting, you are causing the office to vibrate," Minerva said sternly. "Now, how do you know Aberforth is not Albus' full brother?"

"Because if he was my potion would have turned a limpid purple and this vial would have been glowing blue, not vomit green!"

"And this means?" the headmistress prompted when the Potions Master stopped to grind his teeth in fury and what looked remarkably like fear.

Severus flung himself into a chair and scrubbed his face with the heels of both hands. "It means Albus has a closer relative out there and if we don't locate that relative soon then our chances of reviving Albus will be reduced to zero. Worse, Albus' spirit will remain forever trapped in the limbo I have suspended it in to preserve it. He will know no time, no rest, no surcease, no chance to go onward to the, er, last great adventure."

"Oh."

"Get Aberforth here as soon as you can, I need some answers and we have only one day to find them."

The Hog's Head floo flared and Aberforth looked up startled as the headmistress called his name urgently. Taking off his apron, he brushed a hand through his hair and stepped forward to thrust his head through the flames. He let out a distinct squawk as a powerful hand latched onto his throat and dragged him unceremoniously through the flames even though that was supposed to be impossible. A flick of his arm broke the hold, but the wand pressed to his throat was held competently, the pair of onyx eyes challenged him to move a muscle if he dared.

"You! I should have known! What do you want, Snape?" he snapped brushing the wand tip away.

"You are not Albus' brother at all, are you?" Severus snarled bitterly then stopped when the heavier man looked totally gobsmacked.

"O' course I am!" Aberforth roared indignantly. "Hells Flames, Snape, have you been nipping at your own potions? I was there with our father the day he was born, I felt him kick in my mother's womb and I held him in my arms when he was a bare hour old, of course he is my brother, you fool."

Snape threw his arms up in disgust. "See, I told you, he is not Albus' brother."

"But Severus, you heard the man…" Minerva protested bewildered.

"Magically, they share a mother but that does not make them kin in High Court Magic, it makes them related but not brothers. High Court is a patriarchal form of magic that does not recognise the distaff line AT ALL; it does not exist as far as the rites are concerned. Women are merely breeding cattle," Severus stated flatly then smiled evilly as McGonagall flared up angrily. "Why do you think we have a Dark Lord and not a Dark Lady?" he continued relentlessly. "Only because my Grandmother was female, much to her sheer fury." He flung himself down into the nearest chair and ground his teeth in a fury of his own.

Aberforth was shaking his head slowly, disbelief in every line. "But he was my brother, our mother and father did everything for us, everything they could possibly do to give us the best chance in the world. They never made a difference between us, never favoured one over the other."

"How nice for you," Snape hissed then scrubbed his face and flopped backwards showing more emotion than either ever saw in public. "We're screwed, we are completely screwed. We need bloodkin, a father, a brother, a son. His father is dead, we all know that, and he never had a blood son, just hoards of us adopted children and you as his last chance are only a half brother and a matriarchal link at that! We're completely fucked!"

"You know, Snape, you are one offensive little prick," Aberforth snapped then grinned slyly. "And I know something that no one else in the whole of the wizarding world knows. Albus does have a son, alive and kicking and very close to hand, so now who is fucked and who is doing the fucking, smart arse!" Even Minerva held her breath as the older wizard gloated, Severus rising slowly to stare him in the eye. Aberforth suddenly stopped his gloating and slammed his eyes shut. "Oh no, you don't, you have just destroyed my last link to my father, and you are not stealing my knowledge of my nephew. Oh no, Snape, this time I get the grave satisfaction of making you suffer. Now put me back into the Hog's Head, I have to go see a wizard about his father!"

Severus looked like he was going to balk, but a word from Minerva sent him spinning about and tossing floo powder into the flame. He made an elaborate leg and waved Aberforth into the fireplace, grabbing his elbow before he could call his destination. "Don't you dare be playing with our lives here, Dumbledore, or whoever you are, there is more at stake here than a game of one-up-manship."

The older man stared pointedly at the hand on his arm then glared. "I know that. Do you?"


	31. Rebirths

**Chapter 30** – _Rebirths_

For four days Remus had lived rough in the exotic grove, talking to the dying phoenix or simply sitting still and letting the serenity of the place seep into his bones. At night he slept curled in his cloak. In the day, he sat crosslegged on the mulch and allowed the scents of the aromatic herbs and spices curl into his mind. Food appeared regularly, probably brought by house-elves although he never caught them. He often offered the phoenix a share of his meal, but the bird rarely took more than a mouthful of water from him.

On the morning of the fifth day, the phoenix was restless, stretching and swaying its head, until his bamboo wind chime noises became a constant music in the grove. Remus could feel the magic building as the bird grew more agitated, the colours of its dulled plumage suddenly beginning to glow with inner light again. Suddenly Fawkes reared up on his legs, his neck and wings stretched high. The song of the phoenix became so powerful Remus would have covered his ears to block out the wildly emotionally noise, but he could not move for the strength of the song.

On the last belling notes of triumph, the great wings came down and clapped once, the detonation of magical fire knocking Remus off his feet and flinging him into the peppertree's trunk with stunning force. He managed to get an arm up to protect his eyes as the raging inferno blazed before him. The smoke and aromatic oils burned his eyes and made him cough hackingly, but he couldn't turn away as the magnificent bird seemed to split down the middle. A perfect egg of fire emerged from the shrinking belly flesh to land in the ashes. The long primary feathers of each wing fell lightly to the earth well clear of the flames as the wings shrank, the body collapsed in upon itself and the harsh leaping flames began to fade slowly down and down until they dwindled into coals.

Wiping his streaming eyes, Remus managed to scramble to his feet a few seconds before the glowing golden egg shell split and the young phoenix chick shrugged the fragments away from its small but visibly growing body. There was no damp fluffiness or ganglingly awkward cuteness about this chick. It shook off the last residual ashes and coals and leaped from the flames in a magnificent crescendo of song, wildly triumph and yet sad with loss as it circled the clearing, surveying the last remnant of its parent bird. Remus could only stare open mouthed as the newly hatched phoenix found its wings and its song once again before it spiralled down to land gracefully in the tree by the werewolf's head, tapping his cheek with the very tip of its beak.

"What? Oh, oh yes, we have to … indeed." Gathering his scattered wits, he wiped away the tears, grabbed his rucksack and moved forward carefully to where the original phoenix carcass lay in the coals, the magnificent bird reduced to a mere chicken sized shadow of its former self. Somewhat loath to pick it up, Remus finally reached out and gently raised it, sliding it carefully into his bag while the phoenix chirruped and muttered to itself. The feathers that had not been burned were meticulously gathered up too and placed in the pack before Remus turned to the phoenix in the tree and cocked his head questioningly. A portion of ash from the nest went into the bag, followed by a selection of sticks and herbs as the phoenix indicated. Finally, the bird seemed to nod its approval, and together, man and bird made their way back to Hogwarts for the next part of the rite.

oo0oo

"I will not take part in some black magic rite just so you can raise a dead man!" Roger roared furiously, slamming a fist into the mantelshelf with ferocious intent.

Aberforth threw up his arms in disgust while Potter groaned and shook his head, running an agitated hand through the mop and making it messier than ever.

Snape sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, searching for inner strength before he slammed a wandless spell at the healer, pinning him against the far wall as he stalked forward, to snarl in his face. "You stupid, brainless sheep of an imbecile! Ask Potter what dark magic is all about, no '_please, Master Podmore, would you be so kind as to donate a few drops of your blood to help the cause of_ Light'. Oh no, it's '_kill the spare_' and '_blood of an enemy forcefully taken_' in a dark graveyard in the middle of the night. Admit to yourself what is fearfully known but never acknowledged in every heart. The Light is slowly but surely being extinguished by the sheer weight of numbers and the Death Eaters' unslakeable thirst for blood. If the Death Eaters prevail, what do you think will happen to our world? Half-bloods, Mudbloods and Squibs will be tortured slowly and maliciously, hunted down and rooted out of the wizarding bloodlines. People will be told what they can do and when they can do it, who they can speak to and when they can speak, what they may learn and what is forbidden to them. Feudal law will be applied at its worst and most ruthless degree and the only thing standing between that disaster and salvation is a dead man."

"And you really think one man will make all that difference?" Roger sneered albeit with difficulty.

"As a man, no. As a symbol, definitely! Our Ministry sits on its hands and refuses to even acknowledge that there is a problem, because they think it may not be such a bad thing. They seem to think that Voldemort would be pretty much just another Minister for Magic, that he will be more than willing to sit back and let the Ministry grind on in its usual, mindless fashion. Well, he won't; he will destroy everything -- our government, our institutions, our way of life -- and eventually he will destroy the magic."

Even Aberforth shook his head over that one, but Snape did not back down.

"You think not? Remember the witch burnings, remember the time of persecution? Well, if Voldemort has his way, he will alert the Muggles to our existence in the worst way possible, and they will rise up and destroy every one of us with never a thought or a guilty shrug. Oh, some Muggles will protest about the treatment of magicals, but most will not even blink as they use their guns and electricity to wipe us off the face of the earth in their jealousy and hate."

"Oh come now, that is just taking it a bit too far," Roger protested weakly, but surprisingly Harry shook his head.

"No, he's right. A lot of the Muggles cannot accept anyone who is different. Hey, they even kill each other because some have pink skins and others have brown or yellow or olive skins. Muggleborns will tell you that some of their Muggle relatives are really nasty to them and treat them like dirt or turn them out of their homes as soon as they dare. If Voldemort wins, I can almost guarantee he will destroy the whole of wizarding kind within ten years."

Roger bit his lip thoughtfully then eyed Snape who had finally let him go and was standing with his arms crossed tightly over his chest once again. "You say this is not Dark Magic, but you want to draw blood. I thought that was one of the main descriptors of Black Magic."

"No, it's not Black, it's High Court, European not British. Your blood has a lot of the same things in its make-up as your father's, and they call the spirit back to the flesh. Aberforth's tie is not as strong as we thought, but his hair will call to those parts of Albus that came from his mother. Harry's part is the hardest in some ways; he has to donate seed for regeneration." Snape smirked as the boy blushed. "We all must donate breath to recall the spirit, make it remember the living and the breathing world we all share."

"How much blood?" Roger asked nervously, but at least he was listening.

"It took three drops to bring Voldemort back to life," Harry muttered. "I'm sure you could spare that much."

"Three drops stolen are acceptable, but if you are willing to give them then a mere drop will suffice, although more is of course better," Severus said without inflection.

"And when will this very dodgy rite take place?"

"The first midday after Remus returns with the phoenix eld. Fawkes gave the headmaster permission to take his cast body so that he might use the regenerative powers that still linger in a phoenix mummy to restore his body to full and working condition. Such generosity is by far and above what we mere humans could put forward."

Roger's jaw dropped. "But, but that means Fawkes will never be able to regenerate again and he will die."

Severus smiled evilly. "That's correct, the phoenix will give up its eld, its chance at immortality, so that Albus Dumbledore, the man you will not even freely offer three drops of your blood to, might be brought back to the world of the living to serve a cause that has no bloody relevance to what amounts to a magically powered parrot!"

The medi-wizard flushed in temper and stormed out of the room.

"Diplomatic to the last, Snape," Aberforth grumbled as voices sounded in the hallway, and Remus came into the sitting room, a phoenix on his shoulder and a rucksack cradled in his arms. "I have them both," he murmured, a very odd look of complete contentment on his face.

To everyone's surprise, the phoenix rose from Remus' shoulder and flitted over to land on Severus, rubbing his beak along the Potions Master's chin. Even more amazing, Severus lifted his long thin fingers and scratched under the large beak, making the bird trill in contentment. "Alright, Fawkes?" he murmured softly. "We are grateful, you know?"

The bird trilled and cooed, making Severus smile as Roger came back into the room and watched for a second before clearing his throat. "It's eleven o'clock; do you think we should get started?"

oo0oo

The marble edifice was huge and imposing, carved panels depicting stages of the headmaster's life running around the sides. The top sported a base relief image of the headmaster lying down; his arms folded on his chest, a grave and dignified look on his face. Harry stood on his left hand opposite Aberforth while Roger stood at his head and Severus took his place at the foot. Remus stood off to one side, holding the tray that usually contained the instruments seen at a funeral but instead held the mummified phoenix, the feathers and an assortment of bottles and containers Severus had given him. Fawkes had taken up a very uncomfortable looking perch on Severus' shoulder, looking for all the world like a gaudy hat.

As the sun reached its zenith, although not at the top of the sky so early in the year, Severus nodded to Harry, who carefully extracted the phoenix pendant from his robes and held it over the headmaster's breast unsure of what to do with it. Slowly, the marble hands moved revealing a hollow that was perfectly phoenix-shaped, and Harry swallowed hard as he went to unloop the chain from his neck. It came off easily although it had never moved before. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry fitted the pendant into the receptacle then stepped back to his starting position again.

For a moment nothing happened then slowly, slowly, the tide of marble began to melt and flow away revealing the pseudo corpse of the headmaster laid out as it had been more than a year before. His withered hand was still blackened, his beard still held silver sparks, but his twinkling blue eyes were tightly lidded and the expressive face was a still death-mask. Harry drew in a sharp gasp, the events of that night long ago coming back fresh and painful once again. The gasp was echoed around the circle of men, each for their own reasons.

Steadying himself, Severus began the ritual, calling on the powers of earth, fire, wind and water to aid him in his undertaking. The foreign language made Roger's eyebrow raise, but Aberforth seemed fascinated and ready to laugh in delight as he watched the younger man perform magic that had not been seen outside a very few secluded places before. Ignoring him, Severus created a brazier much like a funeral brazier but instead of setting it at the deceased's feet, he caused it to hover over his chest, supported by magic alone.

A gesture made Remus step forward and place the carefully gathered ash and twigs from the phoenix grove into the brazier, arranging them meticulously. Severus began to speak again and Remus stirred, leaning forward slightly.

"Harry, when Severus gestures sprinkle your seed on the fire," he instructed quietly, and Harry relaxed. Obviously someone else knew what they were doing besides Snape, even though the Potions Master's briefing had been comprehensive and clear. At Snape's gesture, Remus offered the containers he had been instructed to give, soil in a bowl to be sprinkled on the corpse's feet, a puff of scent over the gathering to perfume the air, water on the palms of the hands. As Remus stepped back, the twigs began to burn sending the pleasant scent of camphor and laurel through the area. "The four elements are now invoked, get ready, Harry."

Severus said the words which translated as '_Seed of the protégé, fertile and rich_.' Remus prompted and Harry produced a small container and sprinkled its contents over the burning twigs with a rosy blush. When he had been informed of what he had to give, he had been thoroughly embarrassed, but the other men had merely shrugged, taking it in their strides. A faint hint of steam rose as the semen contacted the fire and did not dissipate but hovered over the flames.

The next line was '_hair of the brother who shares a blood mother_'. Aberforth's wand became a blade and sliced off a good foot of his waist length hair. Separating the strands, he fed them into the flame, and the smoke mingled with the steam to form a more dense and visible cloud.

Roger steeled himself but the foreign words were unintelligible as Severus separated his inner robe to expose a thin pale thigh. His wand sliced into the flesh and excised a neat half a pound of muscle without the wizard's chanting faltering. A flick of the wand sent it to rest in the centre of the coals, and the robes fell closed again. The watching men could hardly believe he had done that, but the ceremony was running on and the words '_blood of the son to summon the spirit_' rang out.

Gritting his teeth, Roger neatly sliced into his wrist and allowed the rich flow of blood to join the quivering piece of flesh in the brazier, the cloud now swirling and roiling until it began to take on a human form. Severus continued the ceremony, signalling Remus to bring forth the phoenix, first the long primary feathers and as they were consumed, he was about to break up the shrivelled and blackened eld but the smoke wraith held up a hand. A voice so dearly familiar to some yet distant and thin spoke softly.

"I am a willing returnee, therefore you may use the tail only, leave the rest to my dear, dear Fawkes." Remus cocked his head in Severus' direction then did as instructed when the tall man nodded once. The blackened phoenix flesh was crumbled into the ashes in the brazier and the flames finally faded and died. The brazier drifted down toward Severus' hands as the headmaster's shade drifted down to lie above the still dead flesh and slowly sink into it.

Severus picked up the ash, ignoring the heat as it scorched his palm and sprinkled it over the neo-corpse. Moving in a circling pattern dance, using his blackened fingers he traced sigils on the soles of the feet, palms of the hands and on the headmaster's forehead. Another gesture brought the men back to their stations, although now Aberforth was at the right foot and Severus moved to the head. Remus took a stance beside Aberforth at the left foot and at Severus' nod asked everyone to blow hard on the corpse, donating air and energy. Everyone complied as Severus bent forward and blew directly into the corpse's mouth, inflating the chest then straightening as it fell then it rose again, the headmaster gasping a breath on his own, and another and another.

Harry let out a strangled whoop as the headmaster's eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened slowly, sliding his arm under the narrow shoulders as Roger supported him from the other side. Severus smiled at the two men facing him as both Remus and Aberforth swung the old man's legs down and grinned inanely as the headmaster coughed slightly as he relearned to breathe and move.

Fawkes sang joyously as his friend and master breathed on his own and smiled, stroking Harry's unruly hair and clasping Roger's shoulder in thanks. Remus grinned at Severus then moved forward quickly to grasp his shoulders as the tall man swayed unsteadily. The front of Severus' robe was damp and clinging and the smell of blood was almost overwhelming. "Oh Merlin, Sev! Roger, he's bleeding badly," Remus yelped, wrapping an arm around his waist.

The phoenix chose to hop across and rub his head against the gaping hole in the Potions Master's leg, an opalescent tear dropping into the hole and turning the whole wound into a glittering rainbow before it faded away, leaving the hole closed and gone. Severus tested his weight against the limb then sighed deeply. "Perhaps you might try your tears on the headmaster's hand," he spoke to the phoenix who seemed to chuckle and nod its agreement. "Before we do anything more, let's get out of here. Remus has a portkey to take us all straight to the Room of Requirement where we can all rest and recover. Harry has learned a new time trick, Headmaster," he added as if Harry was a trained seal and the young man stiffened angrily then shook his head in exasperation.

"Bring out the portkey," Harry said with what sounded like strained patience that made Snape snicker as the portkey took hold.

All that was left was the flat marble pad bearing the now solved inscription.

_From Elder Snake to Younger Lion _

_In marble cold, holds the timeless bier_

_Come to the Blood, through Fire rising,_

_The Phoenix shall give up its eld."_


	32. Death Eaters at Play

**Chapter 31** – _Death Eaters at Play_

At one o'clock Harry arrived in the Great Hall and tapped Hermione on the shoulder, passing her a small piece of parchment which caused her to rise and hurry out to where Professor McGonagall awaited her by the staff door.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked suspiciously as his head swivelled between his girlfriend and his friend.

"Hermione's extra credit study stuff came, and she had to report to the library," Harry muttered then grinned when Ron looked scandalised. "I don't know why she does it but she does."

Ron pulled a disgusted face and turned back to his meal.

On their way to afternoon lessons someone tripped Malfoy, who pitched headfirst down the steps and lay in a still heap at the bottom. Professor Flitwick levitated the unconscious youth to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey diagnosed a broken skull and fractured shoulder. He would be kept in seclusion for five days and should be allowed a couple of visitors by the Tuesday but not before.

By three o'clock the whole school was in panic as Aurors flooded the building, surrounding the grounds, guarding the main doors and swarming through the gardens, wands seeking clues to the desecration of the headmaster's memorial. Scrimgeour stormed around the school demanding answers and trying to bully students into letting something, anything, slip in relation to the vandalism. Headmistress McGonagall was aghast at the damage the Aurors were doing to the grounds, but they didn't seem to care as they literally uprooted trees and plants for no apparent reason. Madam Pomfrey was equally furious but did allow the raging minister to see the unconscious Malfoy in the infirmary to confirm that he was not involved. Harry, Ron and Hermione were called to the office and catechised over their whereabouts until Hermione was absolutely livid and actually managed to 'lose control of her magic' which resulted in turning all the Aurors robes in the room a disgusting shade of lilac pink.

Clumps of students muttered in corners, even the Slytherins angry about the desecration of a grave, although a few were thinking seriously about necromancy. Professor Snape came in for a hard questioning session but there was irrefutable evidence that he was with Headmistress McGonagall discussing issues of student curriculum most of the morning then in the Great Hall for lunch and finally conducting an investigation into the harming of one of his students after lunch with Professor Flitwick.

The Aurors took up posts all around and inside the school on Scrimgeour's orders, snarling at the students and harassing the teachers until the professors were wondering what would be more disruptive, Aurors or Death Eaters? Dinner on Friday night was a strained affair and Professor McGonagall instructed all students to go straight back to their common rooms immediately after dinner. Aurors patrolled the corridors and grounds, wands drawn, grim and dedicated to making sure no one went anywhere.

"A bit like closing the barn door after the horse has bolted, don't you think?" Ron muttered when he peered out the portrait and almost put his eye out on a wand point. "And where is Hermione? Harry, aren't you even vaguely worried about her?"

"Nope. She has extra credit to study for so the teachers are giving her a special dispensation to use a guestroom near the library so she doesn't have to attend meals or get caught by those oafs," Harry replied, nose deep in a Quidditch magazine.

"How the hell do you know?" Ron demanded huffily.

"She told me, _ad nauseum_, but you didn't listen as per usual." Harry smirked at his best friend who had the grace to blush.

"Typical! So what are we going to do about these prats Scrimgeour's sicced onto the school, and how are we ever going to find out what happened to the headmaster?"

"We wait until they lose interest then we do our own investigation," Harry said quietly but refused to look up from his magazine no matter how much Ron huffed and puffed.

oo0oo

The young witch smiled at the Auror on the desk, gently rocking the tiny baby in her arms. The Ministry building didn't see too many customers on such a cold and wet Saturday morning and the girl was compellingly pretty, so the young trainee Auror thought nothing of having a chat with her over the counter. She wanted to know if anyone had handed in a small stuffed toy, rather scruffy but still important to her, after all it had been hers before it had been given to her new daughter. Very obligingly, relief watchwizard Sandiman cast a 'find me' spell which seemed to point to the Auror Division of the Ministry. Still enwrapped in flirting with the beautiful young woman, he did not realise she was changing as he led her down the corridors deeper into the heart of the building.

Glancing over his shoulder to smile at her, Rupert Sandiman suddenly realised he had made a terrible mistake when the beautiful young face was revealed in all its opposite glory, a harpy who was about to lose her temper, no more sex appeal. He let out a strangled scream of horror as the woman's clawlike fists fastened into his shoulders and dragged him back against her. A flick of the wrists and his neck snapped like a rotten twig.

A movement to the left made the harpy's head whip around, the edge of a cloak vanishing around a corner and the wail of an alarm spell sounded all through the building. Snarling, the harpy retrieved her 'baby' from an inner pocket and hurled it down the corridor, ducking around the same corner as an explosion rocked the building on its foundations.

In the Apparition Test Centre, a young man checked his pack, fiddling with the buckles and drew his wand as if ready to take the test. Instead, he whirled on a heel and slammed the old attendant with _Avada Kedavra_ then bolted out the door as the pack exploded, taking the ceiling and all the offices above out in the blast.

"They can't be explosions! This building is especially warded so that no detonation spell can go off within its confines," Percy Weasley assured his undersecretary pompously when the concussions shook even the executive offices.

"Perhaps not, sir, but I would say, based on the plaster dust now floating down around us, that something went off with a bang," the young woman replied harshly, covering her mouth with a flap of robe.

Percy shot her a look, testing for mockery but the young woman seemed entirely sincere as she made her way to the door and pulled it open a crack, to peer out. She eased it shut again and turned a very pale face to the slightly older man she worked for. "There are Death Eaters in the corridor," she gasped almost soundlessly.

Shocked, Percy hurried over and peered around the door too, his insides clenching when he saw the back of a black robe disappear around the corner. "Oh dear, this is very bad. What on earth are they doing, invading the Ministry? Destroying the infrastructure is not a strategically advantageous thing to do, everyone needs infrastructure," he muttered indignantly, ignoring his secretary's gasp of, whatever.

Sally Nobel glared over her shoulder at the man's back wondering what she had done to deserve such a prat for a boss. Really, she was a highly qualified administrator, and if a hex hadn't crippled her she would have passed her final Auror's exam and been an Auror rather than a glorified secretary to a complete moron.

A third explosion shook the room, tossing them both into the far wall. Sally shook her head to clear the dust and realised her boss had effectively broken her fall. Rolling off him, she stabbed a hand down and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, we have to get out of here before the roof comes down on us," she snapped, dragging him along behind her as she made her way over the rubble and made him help force the buckled door out of their way.

The corridor was empty but the sounds of shouting and curses came from further down. Sally went to move forward but was caught by the back of her robes and dragged back into the room. "What do you think you are doing?" Percy hissed angrily. "The nearest exit is out the other way."

"People are fighting down there; our people may be able to use another wand. What's wrong, Weasley, scared?"

"Of course I am scared, anyone with half a brain would be!"

"Very well then, you slink out and see if you can alert someone to get help, I'll go offer immediate help, how's that?" she snapped contemptuously and slipped away, leaving Percy grinding his teeth in his dilemma.

The corridor was ill-lit, half the spell globes shattered on the floor and most of the window spells broken. Sally was half tempted to test the Anti-Apparition wards but had enough training to know an enemy would probably have some sort of magic use detectors on the area. Percy had obviously taken her offer and bolted as she couldn't hear him behind her as she crept toward the noise, making use of the cover the debris in the hallway offered.

Peering around the corner, she pulled back silently to reassess what she was seeing. There were at least two Death Eaters with their backs to her, and it looked like they had some of the Ministry personnel pinned down near the lift bank. Reconnoitring again, Sally marked the positions in her mind's eye, made sure there was no one else to surprise her then gathered herself carefully. Her instructors had always told them: Keep It Simple, Stupid, so she had a double _Stupefy_ ready as she eased her wand tip around the corner. They didn't know what hit them, going down like ninepins. Sally ducked back, flattening herself against the wall in case a spell chased her around the corner but nothing came.

"Hey, by the lift bank, this is Sally Nobel, who are you?"

"Department of Magical Accidents," a voice called almost cheerfully. "Did you get both of them?"

"Yes, with _Stupefy_."

"Well done! Come and join us, we were just trying to make our way to the Atrium and from there out to the street, but unfortunately we seem to be suffering a plague of Death Eaters."

Sally giggled at this drolly delivered assessment of their situation and made her way carefully down the hall to where an all too familiar red head was leaning over someone on the floor. "Mr Weasley?"

"Oh, just Arthur will do, pleased to meet you, Sally. Do ye' know anything about hex damage, young Borgia here seems to have been cursed quite nastily."

Sally shook her head then perked up. "I have a first aid kit in the office, hang on a moment." She managed to get there and back in a minimum of time and only stumbled twice which was good for her. "Here," she said breathlessly, opening the lid and passing over a roll of bandage. "Put a wrap around him and tap it with your wand, it will portkey him straight to St Mungo's. It's a special perk Junior Ministers get, but my Junior seems to have deserted the ship."

"Oh well, how unfortunate. Still, we have five healthy bodies here; we can make a difference, now can't we? So, let's get you off to hospital, Kincaid, shall we? Well done. Now, let's see what we have. We raided the Misuse office and came up with some corkers! Here, sunglasses, very useful. When there's too much light, they take half of it and keep it ready until there is no light, then they let it out again so the wearer can see in the dark. Clever, humm?"

Sally grinned at the older man's excitement, quite amazed at the interesting twist on sunglasses. She was Muggle-born and could appreciate the irony. "Very. And what is that?" She indicated the brightly coloured child's pump-up water pistol with interest.

"Oh, now this is a nasty piece, you fill it with water then pump it up and within five minutes the water turns into acid, not just any acid but Bubbling Green Dissolution Solution. I thought we might need something horrid." Arthur shivered slightly.

"Cool, we can surely find a use for that today." Sally grinned tigerishly. "Er, just one thing, we had better do something about our robes so that we don't get mixed up with the Death Eaters." She eyed their conservative, dark blue business robes then flicked a wand over them, turning all their robes to Auror red with a cherry red armband. "That's better, now we won't get mixed up."

"Good thinking, that girl," Arthur nodded, then nodded again, more decisively. "Let's head for the Atrium, there are more exits there."

The four men and Sally moved cautiously through the rubble strewn passage, the sunglasses coming in very handy when the lighting failed completely in a couple of sections. Sally's legs were aching fiercely by the time they reached the upper balconies of the Atrium and peered down between the balustrades. Below, near the Fountain of Magical Brethren, newly re-commissioned after the last battle in the Ministry, a group of perhaps twenty civilians were penned against an alcove by four Death Eaters while a fifth took great delight in torturing a man in the middle of the area. Arthur's good-natured face turned as hard as stone as he signalled everyone to move back a little.

"How are we going to get them all? One slip and those children will be history. Did you see the person they have tossed in the fountain, all that blood?"

"Steady, Heathcote, now is not the time. We need to get at least one of us over to the other side of the area but it will not be easy. The Department of Mysteries is on the other side and that is a locked section. If we had a broom, we might be able to fly across…"

"I'll go," Sally said fatalistically.

"What, fly across?" Aristotle Trelawney asked incredulously.

"No, I'll climb; I do have an advantage, sort of." Taking a deep breath, she dropped the illusion charm she always kept on her legs and waited for any comments.

"Goodness gracious, how useful! Greater ape, isn't it? Gorilla or Orang-utan, perhaps?" Arthur asked enthusiastically.

Sally looked down at her legs, one terminating in a very human foot and court-shoe, the other was definitely still an ape's hand-foot. "St Mungo's was pretty sure it was chimpanzee actually," she commented ruefully. "I'm lucky I ducked when I did or I might have been all chimpanzee instead of just one leg."

"A curse?"

"Humm, during training we were attacked by a party of Death Eaters who were feeling playful. I got this, one of the guys was transfigured into a dolphin, and he still is. No one seems to be able to reverse the effects, something to do with calling up our inner animagus."

"Still, it would make climbing across a lot easier for you," Arthur enthused then blinked. "So that's why you were limping, it would make your legs different lengths, wouldn't it? Er, off the wall, I know, but why don't you just transfigure the other leg and be done with it?"

If he hadn't been so earnest and hopefully smiling, she would have hit him. "Because I am human, not an animal!" she snapped angrily. "The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wanted to have me registered and restricted like a werewolf, but because it was only one leg, they decided the percentage of human out weighed the animal."

"Good God! This Ministry has a lot to be accountable for! Apologies then, I take it back." Arthur patted her hand consolingly.

Sally sighed. "Actually, it was a very good idea," she temporised and tapped her foot with her wand. "Don't tell anyone, but I often do it at home to make housework easier," she stage whispered as the other foot transformed. "Alright, pick a Death Eater and let's get the monsters!"

"Right, once Sally is at the other side…" Arthur quickly assigned the targets and consolidated the rough plan he had been working on.

It only took a few moments for Sally to work her way around the balconies with her extra pair of hands and a touch of _Wingardium Leviosa_ to help. She had been assigned the Death Eater who had been partially hidden behind the statuary, but when she managed to get a clear view of him, she saw another who had been completely hidden until that moment. Taking a deep breath, she planned her assault and waited for the signal. As soon as it came, she sent two _Stupefies_ winging out, the first hitting cleanly, the second only grazing the target. About to cast again, she was pleased to see one of the captured men step forward and throw a beautiful right hook that lifted the black clad figure off his feet and sent him sprawling across the tiles unconscious. Arthur whooped in excitement as they all withdrew, hurrying down to the Atrium floor while Sally climbed down the façade with ease.

The majority of the people below were milling uneasily as the five Ministry people came out of the shadows, one woman kneeling beside her badly mauled husband and the other wading in the fountain trying to retrieve the body of her son. Arthur and Trelawney immediately went to help pull the body out of the fountain while Sally checked the pulse on the tortured man, finding it thready and weak. Deftly wrapping two circles of her bandage around the man's torso, she instructed his wife to hang on as she activated the portkey.

"Well done, girl," an old man said heartily as he hobbled across. "Who's in charge of the unit? And where are the rest of you?"

"Er, Arthur Weasley is in charge and we're it just now. I don't know where the Aurors are, they all took off yesterday, stripped the place bare even of trainees," Sally told him gently.

"Damn fool, that young Scrimgeour! I told him, you can be a Minister or a Head Auror but not both! Stands to reason! So, Young Weasley is in charge, is he, good man but a little soft at times."

Arthur flushed vividly but greeted the old man respectfully, obviously knowing who he was. In an economy of words, the old man agreed to guide the civilians out of the building and raise the alarm as soon as possible. He also told them that more Death Eaters had headed off toward the Department of Mysteries.

"Right, let's go," Arthur called and his four colleagues came over immediately, followed by the man with the wicked right hook who introduced himself as Peitro Uttson, a visitor to the country from Lithuania who would be happy to join in the fight. Arthur looked a little sceptical but allowed that another wand would be useful in the upcoming skirmishes and began to lead his small party down toward the inner levels.

oo0oo

Percy Weasley escaped the Ministry building and immediately Apparated as fast as he could. He had no conscious destination but he found himself on the doorstep of the Burrow almost by instinct. Unfortunately the place was locked up, no sign of any inhabitants and no one had been home for some time by the look of the garden. Still, Charlie had shown him how to get into the house without disturbing his mother's wards when they were just teenagers with the need to sneak out at night, so breaking in was easy enough.

He was surprised to find his room was undisturbed, his things still where he had left them despite the coolness between himself and his family. He still couldn't understand why they were so adamant about lining themselves up with crackpots and doomsayers, but they were his parents even though they had never been particularly sensible. When the Ministry won this silly war and proved there was no such thing as Voldemort, only some disgruntled souls using the Death Eater bogymen for their own ends, he would graciously forgive his family for being so distant and not taking any notice of their most sensible son.

Secure in these comforting thoughts, Percy fell asleep in his own bed.

oo0oo

Pietro, 'just call me Pete', attached himself to Sally, following her every move as she crept down the corridor after Arthur. They ran into a small party of Death Eaters harassing a dozen civilians in the Apparition Testing area and demolished them, setting the civilians free. Trelawney, who had managed to take a nasty curse to the arm in one of the skirmishes was told off to guide the people out and make sure the alarm was raised as soon as he was out. Aristotle didn't want to go, but he knew he was a liability rather than an asset if there was a further fight. Wishing him good luck, Arthur's group pushed on deeper.

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was utterly demolished, bodies strewn everywhere. In the holding tanks four alleged werewolves had been torn to pieces and a fifth gutted and left to die slowly. She managed to tell them that there were twelve Death Eaters in the party that had raided the department and they had taken two of the werewolves with them. "Some of us will follow anyone who promises the earth and the stars, but the rest of us know very well that Snake-on-Two-Legs is a false god and we paid the price for not blindly following," she gasped. "Shame it's not Moon, I could have done a better job tearing throats out." The woman's predatory laugh was her last breath.

"It's so unfair what they do to the werewolf population," Sally remarked grimly as she laid the woman's head down again and pulled a fold of robe over her face.

Pietro, who had not come into the cells, shook his head and fastidiously did a cleaning spell on her robes before offering her a hand to step over the bodies. Arthur tried the fireplace, but it had been cut off the Floo system so he feared no one had escaped the Department alive, detainee or staff.

The Department of Mysteries looked untouched as they crept along the corridor, but voices came from the area which they assumed housed the Unspeakables. There were also a few muffled screams and someone laughing in huge amusement over something. Arthur slid along the floor and peered into the room, shuffling back on his charm with a grimly set expression.

"There are three Death Eaters in there, and they have strung up a couple of people for a bit of fun."

"How stupid can you get?" Pillinton muttered. "Well, I mean, who goes on a raid then gets sidetracked? It's not exactly professional, now is it?"

Sally nearly laughed at his aggrieved tone but managed not to. Arthur merely sighed and began planning ways to get around the problem. Before they could implement the sketchy plan there was a shout and a curse sped over their heads, scattering them into the offices lining the hallway. Sally blasted a curse back in the general direction then yelped as something hit her in the back. Spinning clumsily, she stared in horror, but before she could yell a warning, she was slammed back into the wall, her consciousness gone at the blow.

"So we're not very professional, are we?" the voice asked nastily and someone screamed, something wet hitting her face and making her struggle into consciousness again. Her arms were shrieking in agonies from being pulled over her head while a dull throb had localised in the back of her skull. Her eyes would not focus properly and for that she was rather glad. The place was not a torture chamber, but it was being used as one. Gloating, black clad menaces moved jerkily in her fractured sight, pale bodies suspended with her own, blossoming redness as knives sliced and hooks tore.

Pillinton's guts were already spilled, hanging heavily down his thighs and bleeding sluggishly, the muted moans from his open mouth were slowly dying as his life left him. It was Arthur's blood on her face as he was slowly spun by the wrists, a knife held against his rotating body to carve a long, shallow trench around his skin, painful, messy but not deadly. Death Eaters at play. She wondered how long she had been out for, obviously longer than she thought, her detached little logical self said in the back of her head, floating above the horrific scene, analysing and recording, keeping the nausea at bay. Suddenly a thought caught her and she stiffened, an involuntary snarl twisting her face for an instant. Pietro behind her casting a curse that slammed her into the wall. The bastard was one of them!

There was a commotion by the door and another pair of Death Eaters came in causing a cessation in the torture. The smaller of the new pair smiled happily to see the bodies strung up but the taller merely grunted.

"We're supposed to be looking for something, you idiots. The Lord wants it and if we don't find it, you know this will be just a foretaste of what he will do to us all, don't you?"

"Oh, honestly, Dolohov, you are no fun," the smaller one muttered in disgust, pulling her wand and transfiguring it into a fine edged blade. "Just a little bit, we can spare half an hour."

"No, Bella, we can't, we have to find the stupid stuffed dog, the Lord only knows why. Kill them and let's get out of here," Dolohov muttered, lifting his wand but Bella was quicker, she lashed out at the first hanging body, parting Elflock's throat in one slash. She spun on her toes as light as a dancer and almost removed Heathcote's head. Arthur didn't stand a chance, her slash was true and clean, and he died in a few moments, no reprieve, then Sally knew it was her turn. She stiffened, waiting for instant death and it came, fast and bright across her throat, burning like ice rather than fire.

Giggling wildly, the Death Eaters were gone and the world grew quiet once again. Sally drifted in and out of consciousness, finding it hard to breath but still breathing, much to her amazement, just hanging around, her inner voice said madly as she drifted off again.


	33. Balance

**Chapter 32** – _Balance_

**Warning: Harrowing end.**

Draco had allowed himself to be tripped as the note implied, but he certainly hadn't meant to injure himself so spectacularly. Waking very briefly, he had seen Pomfrey arguing with what looked like an Auror, but then he had slipped back into unconsciousness. When he woke the second time, a very dear bushy head was laid on the side of his bed, which was definitely not in the Infirmary. Moving his hand cautiously, as it really hurt his shoulder; he stroked the hair which promptly tangled around his fingers, as determined not to let him go as its owner. The slight tug woke her, and Hermione sat up carefully so as not to jar his injured shoulder.

"How do you feel now?" she asked, scrubbing at her face.

"I think a little less authenticity might be in order next time I take a swan dive," he murmured ruefully. "Where are we?"

"Back in the Room of Requirement; we have another four, possibly five months in three days, long enough to have the baby in safety," she said cheerfully.

Draco let out a sigh as the tension he had not realised was winding him up gave away suddenly. "Thank Merlin for that, I was so worried about how we were going to pull it off. How I could possibly watch you trying to be normal when all I wanted to do was keep you safe from harm. How do you feel, anyway? Young Malfoy behaving himself?"

"Full of yourself, aren't you? She is fine, being a very good passenger," Hermione teased then sighed. "I wish I could have told my parents. They would have been so happy for me."

"Best they stay as ignorant as the rest of the world," Draco consoled her. "We'll both go and see them as soon as it is practical and safe, okay?"

"Deal," Hermione agreed then started. "I forgot! It's so exciting! Guess who is sleeping in the next room and getting better every day?"

Draco smiled at her excitement. "Who?"

"Professor Dumbledore! I know, I know, it's fantastic but it's true! Snape did it, he brought him back!"

Draco's jaw simply dropped.

oo0oo

Molly stared down at the frail old man who slept against the white pillow. It was hard to comprehend that this fragile looking shell was really Albus Dumbledore, not a figment of her imagination. When Minerva had called her only an hour before, she had wondered it the older woman had been nipping the scotch too regularly but no, as soon as she had flooed out to Hogwarts, she had felt it, a subtle warmth in the building that had been missing for more than a year.

Minerva had told her the Aurors had discovered Albus' tomb had been opened barely an hour before, and she had had to do some fancy sneaking to get to the Room of Requirement but once there she had to believe it was so. For a slow Friday afternoon, it was too exciting for words. She had left a message for Arthur to join them as soon as the Aurors left the school and settled in to take her share of the round-the-clock watch Poppy and Roger had set over the headmaster.

For the past month the old man had done nothing but sleep, a magically maintained sleep that allowed the healing potions Severus had supplied to do their work. Albus would remain asleep for at least two months while his body and soul renewed their acquaintance and meshed together again after being parted for so long. Molly had wondered at that, but when Draco and Hermione turned up a week later saying less than an hour had passed in the outside world, she had to believe they would have the time to allow for the headmaster to regain his strength and his will.

Then Molly received another shock, the second reason she had been chosen to stay in the Room of Requirement. Hermione Granger was now married and a Malfoy of all things and she was expecting a baby, a Malfoy baby. The ramifications were… horrendous! Oh, she had nothing against Hermione having a baby, despite her age, but Malfoy's? She remembered what Lucius had done to her own daughter, his utter contempt for anything he thought of as inferior, and she quailed for Hermione's unborn child. Draco was not her favourite person in the world, his contempt for others echoing his father's until very recently. Still, he had made an honest bond with Hermione, despite the prejudice such a thing would engender and he was always polite to her. So, she would do her best for Hermione and tolerate Draco until and if he proved to be untrustworthy. Once the decision was made, Molly threw herself into the role of surrogate mother with a vengeance.

Both Poppy and Roger pronounced Hermione as healthy as a horse as she approached her third trimester, the bump showing a distinct rounding as the baby grew. All inhabitants of the Room of Requirement took exercise in the gym which had returned smaller and more compact but still fully equipped. Molly often cautioned Hermione to take it gently, but she just laughed and continued to practice with Draco, although they were careful not to actually hit each other with hexes or jinxes.

After two months of sleeping, Albus Dumbledore finally began to wake up, initially for a few minutes then for longer periods of time. At first he merely smiled a lot, not talking and hardly interacting, almost as if his wits had gone wandering, Roger commented uneasily, but as he began to have longer lucid periods, he began to talk a little and finally to hold conversation. It was not an instant recovery; it took over a month for him to become more like himself both physically and mentally, growing younger and more active every day. His horribly damaged hand had been bathed and treated with a solution of phoenix tears until the blackened and deadened skin had been gently and completely sloughed away, leaving healthy new skin underneath.

"Better than new," Albus pronounced as he clenched his fist over the rubber ball Roger gave to him.

"Actually, that is true," Roger replied with a crooked grin. "You are as fit and as healthy as we can make you, now we just have to wait for your magic to finish coming back and you will be ready to face the world again."

"Indeed, it shouldn't take too much longer," the old man replied with a cheerful grin. "Probably another two months or so, I would say."

"And why do you think that, Headmaster?" Poppy asked, coming in on the tail of the conversation.

"Because Madam Malfoy will probably have her child in two months' time, and no one is going anywhere until that blessed event occurs."

"Well done," Roger laughed. "They are going to need all the support we can muster to keep the child a secret from everyone, including the Ministry."

"Oh, indeed. I think Minerva's niece Mavien from the Highlands will be having an illegitimate child and bringing it to school so that her great aunt can protect it from a vengeful family who don't like the idea of an illegitimate child," the Headmaster mused, getting up to pace as he wove his story. "Of course, Minerva can't look after a child like that all the time so she will of course choose someone who is both responsible and far enough along with her NEWTs to help care for the child. I think Hermione fits the bill perfectly, don't you? And if the child seems to have Hermione's magical signature on it, then it is to be expected, considering how much time she will be spending looking after it."

"Oh, well done, Sir," Draco clapped gently, lounging in the doorway. "We were wondering how we were going to keep the child with us. I know Hermione doesn't particularly want to employ a nanny, but it may well come down to that as she will not own a house-elf, can't think why."

"Oh, she may change her mind when she realises how much work is involved," Roger predicted, but both other men shook their heads resignedly.

oo0oo

Molly woke screaming! Hermione was out of bed, her wand at the ready before the first echo had even reached the corridor, Draco beside her in an instant. "Go to her, I'll guard your back," he muttered tersely as torches flared along the corridor.

Hermione hurried into Molly's room, shocked to see the anguish and fear on the older woman's face. "What is, Molly, what's wrong?"

"Arthur! He's dead, he's dead!" She scrambled out of bed and began to throw clothes on at a great rate. "I have to go to him, I have to!"

"Now, Molly, stop, it was only a bad dream," Poppy said firmly as she bustled in to wrap her arms around the frantically moving woman. "Hush now, hush, it's only a dream. Come on now, drink this and relax a little, it's far too early to go outside just yet," the medi-witch soothed, coaxing her to drink a potion that was potently narcotic. In seconds the frantic woman was drooping and more than half asleep even though she insisted she had to go to her husband's side immediately.

Tucking her back into her bed, Poppy and Roger exchanged puzzled glances - could something be wrong with Arthur? The Weasleys had been married for a very long time, time enough for them to have become a part of one another. Shaking their heads, they sent everyone back to bed, Draco helping Hermione climb back in. He wondered how she had managed to get out of bed so quick, her eight and a half month bulk certainly hard to manoeuvre at the best of times. Honed battle instincts were hard to beat!

"Do you think there is something wrong with Arthur?" Hermione asked sleepily as Draco spooned behind her and soothed the upset child back to stillness.

He was saved from answering as a faint snore came from his wife.

oo0oo

The house was quiet, unusually so as the crack of apparition sounded in the yard. The owl perched disgustedly on the porch rail ruffled its feathers as the agitated woman ran up the steps and cancelled the locking charms with a snap. She batted the bird aside, grabbing the letter carelessly as she stormed inside, bellowing at the top of her voice for her husband. Silence fell abruptly when she spotted the note on the table untouched and unopened.

'_Dear Arthur, been called to the school, join me later, Love Molly'_

He hadn't read her note!

A creak overhead made her spin around as hope bloomed in her heart, but the tread on the stairs was not her Arthur's, making her turn to the clock and let out a shriek of horror. Instead of three hands hanging to indicate dead children, there were four. Arthur's hand had joined his sons', no longer animated but gone.

"Mum?" Percy's voice wavered as he rounded the curve in the stairs and faltered when he saw his mother's tears. He glanced at the clock, then felt his knees give way and sat down heavily on the steps. "Oh Dad!" he murmured, forcing himself to move toward his mother and guide her to a seat at the scrubbed oak table. The only thing he could think of was to make tea, the remedy his mother had used for years, but it seemed so pointless when the world had just come to an end. There were two lots of tears on the table as he poured his mother a cup of tea and carefully prised the parchment from her hand. She hadn't spoken or even acknowledged his presence since that one dreadful cry. "Mum, I'm going to read your letter, okay?" he said softly, unable to think of anything else to do.

'_Molly love, there's a bit of a rumpus here at the Ministry. If I can't get finished, I'll stay on the couch at the office so don't worry. Love you. Arthur.'_

"Oh Merlin! The Ministry was under attack when I left, what if… what if he's still there?" Percy whispered in horror.

The faint words made Molly's head turn jerkily, as if her neck joint was badly oiled. "You left your father under fire?" she whispered aghast. "You left your post when your father was being attacked! You coward! You blatant, pathetic little coward! Get out of my sight!" she shrieked at the top of her voice, her wand coming up threateningly.

"I didn't know he was there, Mum, I swear! I didn't know!"

"And that makes it right to leave your duty, to run in the face of the enemy? You are no Weasley of this family, no son of mine!"

The hex she flung at his head was no gentle thing, and Percy only just managed to dodge it as Molly surged to her feet in a fury of torment. Percy dodged the next blast and managed to get his wand out even as his mother turned and flung a handful of floo powder into the flames. "Arthur's office!" she bellowed and was gone in a roar of green flames leaving Percy to cope with a case of festering sores and a feeling of creeping dread in his heart. He did not notice his hand on the clock had been snapped off at the base by the first, deflected spell as he apparated away.

oo0oo

Hermione swore and cursed, random ricochets of magic pinging off the walls of the delivery room Poppy had set up for her. Draco ducked as a particularly strong blast singed the hair off his right side and left a burn scar up the wall. He had known his darling wife had a temper and strong magic, hell, she had almost broken his jaw once, but this was phenomenal! He grinned as Poppy swore too, amazed the sedate older woman even knew such a word.

"I don't know what you are grinning at, Draco Malfoy, but when I can do something about it, I'm going to kill you, or castrate you, whichever comes first!" Hermione promised furiously then moaned when another deep seated contraction wrenched her body in two. "Please, baby, please, just come," she begged tearfully as her stomach contracted sharply.

"You have to relax, Hermione, or you are never going to have this child," Roger said, a faint smile in his tone as the young witch laboured hard.

"Easy for you to say," Hermione bitched furiously then gasped and strained as another contraction hit her. "Make it stop!" she wailed miserably as the contraction faded and a new one immediately built behind it.

"Can we do anything? She's really hurting," Draco exclaimed worriedly, gnawing his lip as his wife grunted in pain.

"Just make her relax, she has to relax and it wouldn't be half as hard on her," Poppy said decisively, shaking her head as another contraction hit.

Shucking his outer robe, Draco climbed up behind Hermione and pulled her into his lap despite both Roger and Poppy's exclamations of horror. "Right!" he snapped, smothering yet another discharge of random magic. "Wild Hair, that's enough, remember the books, you have to breathe properly now, no more of this random rubbish, got me? Come on now, girl, let's do the pant thing, I have you safe."

Hermione found a giggle from somewhere when her two healers looked like landed fish. "Okay, Goldfish, let's go for broke," she gasped, then began to pant as he instructed.

"This is most unorthodox," Poppy exclaimed but managed to collect herself and get on with her job.

Roger grinned and nodded, he had done some Muggle midwifery training years ago and realised the young couple were trying the Lamaze method. Nodding to the young husband, he stepped back and hoped his services as a surgeon would not be needed in the delivery after all. The sharp clap of flesh on flesh followed by a distinct wail brought him out of his reverie as the newborn child protested his entry into the world.

"A little boy," Poppy exclaimed happily as she tended the child then passed him over to his parents who were suddenly galvanised with joy. "Have you chosen Godparents?"

"Yes, but of course they are not here!" Draco giggled slightly hysterically.

"Oh dear, so how are we going to Name the child?" Roger asked worriedly.

Draco smiled, that devious little smirk they all knew so well. "I had them make recordings of what they were going to say so we can name him immediately with no problem."

"Clever!" Roger applauded, but Hermione looked a little sceptical.

"Why would he need Godparents? I am not religious so I don't see…" She trailed off as the three magicals stared at her in complete amazement.

"There's a bit of a difference between Muggle godparents and magical Godparents," Draco said gently. "A Godparent Names the child, fosters his magic and is generally as much a part of the child's life as the parents. Without the Godparents a pure-blood child would unable to take part in certain Rites or ceremonies, would be vulnerable to some types of magical attack on his family and unrecognisable therefore unsuitable for certain positions in our world."

"Which positions?" Hermione asked dangerously.

"Minister of Magic, sitting on the Wizengamot…"

"That's just prejudicial!" Hermione squeaked aghast. "Besides, our child is not a pure-blood, is he?"

Draco shrugged. "He is my Heir and son of my body, he is a wizard born and bred and therefore he is as good as any pure-blood, born of two old families. Hermione, you are Muggle-born and have no Godparents, Poppy is a half-blood and has Godparents, she can sit on the Wizengamot because her magic has been protected by Godparents and the Rites that go with the position, yours has not, and therefore you are vulnerable to some nasty magic which we are not. If you were to sit on the Wizengamot, then you would be a target for certain factions of magic like Elementals and Demonic type spirits, it's just the way it is, nothing personal."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "And if I was to get Godparents at this late point in my life?"

Roger cleared his throat. "Should be alright for an ordinary person, but I'm afraid, Hermione, the adventurous life you have lead may have already brought you to the attention of powers outside our circle of protection. Even having Godparents and the Protection rituals they bring may not be enough; you need to be shrived and consecrated before even attempting the Rite."

"Fascinating, your Rites parallel the religious thinking in so many ways."

"Well, the two worlds were not always so far apart, there were some cross-pollination points in the past," Draco said dryly then kissed her nose. "If you want, once we are out of here, I will arrange to give you Godparents, but in the meantime, let's get our beautiful baby boy protected, shall we?"

"Who did you choose for Godparents, Draco?" Poppy asked quickly to help avert an explosion from her patient.

Draco pulled three crystals from his pocket, and tapped the first one. An all too familiar voice came from the shard of silvery stone. "I name this child Lysander by Godfather's rights."

"Snape, you appointed Snape?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I did; he is one of the most powerful wizards around and will be a great protection if all goes to hell in the next few months," Draco said quietly as he pulled out the next crystal and tapped it.

Another familiar voice spoke clearly, making Hermione smile. "I name this Child Lysander Abraxas by Godfather's rights."

"Harry Potter, the other most powerful wizard I know so if the other side wins then he is still protected," Draco said modestly, making Hermione laugh.

"Very Slytherin, Mr Malfoy," she teased then settled primly as he pulled out the third crystal and tapped it with a smirk.

"I Name this child Lysander Abraxas Malfoy by Godmother's rights," Ginny's voice said steadily into the silence, and Hermione glowed as she smiled at Draco.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I would have asked Ginny if I'd known."

"I thought you might." Draco smiled smugly. "Besides, she is one scary little witch and will only get more so as she grows up. _I_ wouldn't cross her," he added cheerfully, making Hermione laugh then groan as she hurt.

"Time to rest now, everything is in order and all is done. Now give my young Lysander here so you can have a sleep, my dear. Shoo, Draco, let your wife have a sleep, she needs it. You deal with the caul, cord and afterbirth."

oo0oo

The Ministry was in chaos as Scrimgeour finally arrived, his squads trailing in after him. Tenabar Tungarus had raised the alarm in mid afternoon, and badly wounded people had been portkeying in to St Mungo's most of the afternoon too, but no one had bothered to call him back from the wild goose chase at Hogwarts. Roaring and blustering, he took charge of the rescue efforts, pushing aside the civilian volunteers who were busily excavating the rubble left by the Muggle explosions. Shaking his head in disgust, he flicked his wand to remove the bricks and broken stone, only to have a whole new lot rumble and crash down on the workers. Someone snarled and his wand was plucked from his hand by an indignant young wizard wearing an orange robe and hard hat.

"What the hell are you doing, you moron? Didn't I just say be careful as the whole area was unstable. You have put our work back almost to scratch, you fool! Now bugger off and let the professionals get to it!"

"Do you know who you are talking to, young man?"

"Yes, the stupid git who just caused three more people to be injured! Now get lost!" Shoving the man out the way, Thomas Bones reordered his workers, and they began levitating rubble away gently, leaving the Minister with egg on his face, the spectators booing or hissing him.

oo0oo

Molly held her wand at the ready as she made her way through the rubble strewn darkness toward the main area of the atrium. She found a couple of footprints, but she mainly relied on her tracking spell which could pick Arthur's magical signature out from any number of mixed trails. It led down into the bowels of the Ministry, past the sickening carnage in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and into the Department of Mysteries. She knew she was drawing close to Arthur but her tracer was actually fading, and she refused to think about the consequences of that as she slid along the wall, her ears and eyes searching the darkness for any trace of resistance.

The smell alerted her to the nearness of others, the raw copper smell of fresh blood and the base line stink of terror. As she slunk into the foyer of the Department of Mysteries, her knees went weak and she sank to the ground as her brain tried to digest what her eyes were sending her. Bodies, bloody and torn, were hanging from the ceiling, still suspended in a web of spells, blood and … other things dripping down sluggishly. She knew one of those forms more intimately than she knew her own, a keen of pure loss sounding as she managed to stagger to her feet. It took raw courage to approach the slowly turning body, brush thinning red hair away from a face so beloved she felt her heart falter in its beating. The limp weight drove her to her knees as the spell was finished without a thought, tears blinding her and washing the blood from his cheek in a salty rain.

Time lost meaning as Molly mourned for the other half of herself, but eventually a faint noise caught her attention and she turned to see one of the corpses was not. Gathering something from deep inside her, Molly managed to stagger to her feet and release the spell holding up the thin girl, catching her as she slumped. Blood stained the front of the girl's robes, and her breathing was underlined by a bubbling rattle. Seeing the damage, Molly quickly cast a healing charm over the slash in her throat. It closed fully, a battlefield charm to hold her flesh together, and the girl did her best to speak. Finally, Molly took her meaning and pulled a depleted roll of bandage out of the girl's pocket.

Molly recognised the slightly silvery stuff as something Arthur had raved about a few months ago, a portkey bandage and rather rare as the spells on it were complicated and hard to do. Stifling another keen of loss, Molly read the instructions and carefully measured a length off the roll. Wrapping a coil around the girl, she tapped it with her wand then hurried back to Arthur, wrapping them both in the last few feet before sending them both out to wherever the portkey dropped them.


	34. Funeral Politics

**Chapter 33** – _Funeral Politics_

The Wizengamot was in chaos; the current Supreme Mugwump Aramaus Morneloten was furious that the Ministry buildings had been all but destroyed with an absolute minimum of resistance from the Aurors who had been out chasing will-o'-the-wisps in Scotland. The Daily Prophet had dripped vitriol and scorn on their pathetic efforts, and some fool had taken pictures of Scrimgeour's error in removing the rubble which simply added fuel to the fires of humiliation the Minister was suffering. Pounding the traditional rock with his wand transfigured to a gavel he caused a shower of angry red sparks to fly about and sting the arguing delegates below on the floor. They jumped apart, their wands coming up defensively.

"That is quite enough!" he roared, to emphasise the point. "Because of the lack of response from the Aurors office we have been reduced to holding meetings in a warehouse leased from a Muggle importation company, and even more disheartening, the only person who made any effort to defend our majestic, _former_ Ministry Building was killed in the attempt. And where were the Aurors? They had been ordered by the Minister for Magic to dash off on a wild goose chase for what was clearly a very good diversion created by the Death Eaters. Have I forgotten anything?"

"No, Supreme Mugwump," the multiple muted murmurs sounded from the delegates' throats, the mutterings of ashamed men and women looking at their boots.

Rufus Scrimgeour ground his teeth until his jaw ached, knowing the Supreme Mugwump was about to annihilate him with words and possibly an official reprimand, and it was not long in coming.

"When Rufus was appointed Minister for Magic, quite a number of this body expressed misgivings. A Minister who was also head of the Aurory would be a mistake. No Wizard can serve two such high profile positions efficiently, and so it has been proved. In the normal course of events, if the Minister ordered the head of the Aurory to strip the department and send all the Aurors on a single mission, the head of the Aurory would have said 'no, we must preserves a force to defend the Ministry, just in case.' However, that check and balance was missing because the two officers were one and the same and as a result we are left in a very dangerous position indeed. Muggle explosives destroyed a great deal of our housed records as well as our building. Repairing it will be a challenge, if we are not to alert the Muggles to our work. The dangers of our position have been highlighted, and I am compelled to act immediately for the good of the wizarding world."

The Wizengamot drew a deep bracing breath as the Supreme Mugwump stood up. "Rufus Scrimgeour, you have filled the role as Minister and the role as Head Auror with dignity and skill, but no man can work for two masters. Because of your past record and undisputed abilities, I am going to ask you to choose which of these positions you would prefer to hold and which you would relinquish, without favour or penalty."

There was a gasp then a sigh and Rufus stood up with what dignity was left to him, staring around the delegates with hooded eyes. "I am fully conscious of my failure to act correctly in this past crisis, and I do appreciate the Supreme Mugwump's faith in my abilities. I would prefer to retain the Head of Aurory if you would grant me such a boon, despite the results of my failure to separate the two positions in the past, and resign from the post of Minister for Magic."

"Resignation accepted, so it is said, so it is done," Morneloten said graciously, smashing his gavel to mark the change of office. "Thank you, Rufus; I am pleased to keep your services in a position where you have always been so very effective. I would like the Wizengamot to listen carefully to the next proposal. Many people have come forward and praised Arthur Weasley for his gallant rescue of most of the civilians trapped in the Ministry building by the Death Eaters. While he and his brave group of men and women will of course receive Medals of Valour - Merlins First class, posthumously, I thought - I would also like to propose Arthur Weasley for Minister for Magic."

There was a surprised mutter through the delegates, but they were willing to listen. "If Weasley was killed as Minister, then he would receive a state funeral, become a martyr to the cause and help pull all our people into a tightly-knit fighting force against these damned Death Eaters and their Lord Voldemort, who has had far too much power over our people in the past, and it's time we all did something about it. We are wizards, not worms to cower in our homes like craven cowards and hide our heads in the sand. Time to rally and toss out this cancer in our midst and why not use a brave man's sacrifice to rally the troops? The funeral will be lavish and his widow will receive a pension, of course, but it is a small price to pay for the repossession of our dignity. I propose Arthur Weasley for Minister for Magic."

The delegates roared agreement, many jumping to their feet to clap and cheer. Morneloten smiled benignly, catching Scrimgeour's eye and nodding as the man clapped slowly. So far, so good. "So it is said, so it is done! The funeral arrangements and medal ceremony will be held as soon as possible. In the meantime we need to appoint a Minister for Magic who will be able to lead us in this crisis, give us strong and capable direction in our fight against the evil Lord Voldemort represents. I call for nominations, the candidates to be announced at the Funeral."

As speculation rose and the delegates began lobbying for nominations, Morneloten signalled Scrimgeour and they both moved to the side office of the warehouse. "So, that put the cat amongst the pigeons," Rufus remarked as they sat down.

Morneloten sighed. "You made a mistake, Rufus, letting your personal feelings over-ride your responsibilities. I know how much you want Hogwarts as part of your jurisdiction, but it will not happen! Hogwarts, the castle itself, is almost alive and it will decide who holds the keys, and there is not a blind thing we of the Ministry can do about it. If someone stole Dumbledore's body then Hogwarts meant for it to happen. What did you find out?"

"Foreign magic was performed on the tomb; traces of what looked like a Timeless Bier spell, would you believe? It had been broken and some sort of resurrection spell performed, again traces of European magic and phoenix feathers…."

"Albus had a phoenix as a familiar, didn't he? You don't think…? Could he be alive still?" the Supreme Mugwump asked in horror.

"We are talking about Albus Dumbledore here, his magical signature is on file and if anyone comes in pretending to be him, then it will be easy enough to refute the claim totally," Auror Scrimgeour assured him grimly.

"And if the claim is proven?"

Rufus pursed his lips. "Quite frankly, Aramaus, I think I would cheer at this point, as dismayed as I am to say it. We need a Dumbledore as well as a Martyr, or we are going to fail."

Both men sighed deeply.

oo0oo

Ron and Ginny clung together outside the room where their mother was being treated for shock. An officious little man had been in the Headmistress' office when they had answered the summons, oozing unctuous pity and avid interest in their reactions to his news. He seemed angry that they were not delighted to find their father was being given a medal and a state funeral, a sniff of disdain hidden in Ginny's wail of loss. Headmistress McGonagall had bundled the man out into the Floo as fast as possible and offered tea and sympathy, all she could do in these circumstances.

Suddenly there was a flurry of robes as Harry and Hermione, newly liberated from the Room of Requirement, arrived, enfolding their friends in a comforting embrace. "We just heard," Harry murmured in Ginny's ear as he smoothed her hair and held her close.

"God, Ron, what can we say?" Hermione murmured as she was almost crushed by Ron.

A bright flash made them all start, Harry's eyes narrowing as an all too familiar green suit and vicious smile impinged on their grief.

"And here is the Chosen One comforting his 'little friend' in her time of grief. Tell me, Harry, how do you feel about being responsible for the killing of the Minister?" Rita Skeeter asked with a saccharine smile and narrowed eyes.

Ron roared inarticulately, the noise of his anger hiding Ginny's furiously snapped spell which hit the reporter between the eyes, knocking her off her feet and splatting her against the far wall. The sticky threads of spider silk wrapped themselves all over her, cocooning her tightly and hanging her feet first from the ceiling. The photographer's eyes went wide and he began to run, but Hermione's tangle spell caught him and sent him sprawling across the floor, Harry's foot stopping his camera from skidding into the wall.

"You now have two choices, refuse to cooperate and, _oopse_, a flat camera, or cooperate, destroy the photo and no flat camera."

"You can't muzzle the press," the photographer protested half-heartedly, but a glance at the struggling, muffled Skeeter said they could. He closed his eyes and shook his head then sighed and removed the film from the camera.

"Leave," Ron said flatly, pushing the photographer out of the door before all four young people turned to stare at their old enemy with eerily similar cat-like smiles. The cocoon of spider silk suddenly went flat and a slight buzzing sounded from the region of the stomach. A bright green beetle suddenly pushed its way out of a thin spot and careened around the room, evading their lunges easily. They could almost hear her laughing as the door opened and the beetle zipped out the gap.

There was an exclamation of disgust and a muffled crack as Harry threw the door open and all four tried to pile out together. The medi-witch in the corridor jumped when the concerted cry of 'no' made her flinch, but her foot still came down hard on the stunned beetle on the floor. "I don't know how these things get in here, we have charms on all the doors and windows," she snapped in disgust and ground her toes hard to be sure the creature was dead.

"Oh Good Merlin, you just splattered Rita Skeeter," Ron gasped while his sister and Hermione ducked back into the room with greenish complexions.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked puzzled, then teetered backwards as the residual Animagus transformation faded and the torn and bloody remains of the reported became human again. "Oh, oh my…" She staggered back and began to scream at the top of her lungs.

"That's one way to put it," Harry muttered, feeling for a pulse even though it was obvious there was none. "And another good argument against unregistered Animagi."

Ron made no comment past a slightly hysterical giggle.

oo0oo

The funeral was a complete and utter farce as far as any of the Weasley children could see except perhaps Percy, who revelled in the attention and ceremony. Charlie portkeyed in from Romania to be with his mother and was horrified to be called up to receive a posthumous medal on his father's behalf. All the usual ceremonies, the setting of the brazier and the burning of the hair had been taken out of family hands and put into Ministry care, the family all but excluded in the pre-burial rituals. When both Charlie and Ron complained, Percy told them not to be so parochial and to welcome the fuss as their father's due.

"After all," Percy sniffed indignantly, "Dad was not exactly a shining light at the Ministry, and he could not have expected such recognition in life. At least in death he does the family name some good and gets Mother taken care of…."

Whatever else he was going to say was lost as Ginny hexed him with a _Petrificus Totalus_ and wouldn't release him until the Head of Aurors asked nicely. Even then it was touch and go until Harry soothed her frayed nerves with gentle care.

What Molly thought about the shenanigans was unknown as she had not spoken for days, still deeply shocked by the death of her soul partner. Ginny, supported by Hermione, who had consigned Lysander into Draco's sole care, led the older woman around like a large, animate doll and kept her safe during the farce of a funeral. The Ministry, taking her silence as consent, went completely overboard, starting with a full medal presentation featuring a marble bust and a flyover by the Ministry Broom Aurors.

The retiring Minister for Magic declared that, as sad as he was to announce it, he had resigned on Friday and they were waiting to announce Arthur Weasley's swearing into the post on Monday, but the Death Eaters had heard of the proposed appointment and struck before it could even be gazetted. Of course, the terrible accident to Miss Skeeter, had only added to the confusion.

The Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot droned on for nearly an hour, the eulogy more a campaign speech than an honouring of the dead. Charlie and Ron grew more and more agitated as the speeches droned on. Only Ginny and Hermione's firm grip on Charlie and Harry's steadying hand on Ron's shoulder stopped them jumping up and walking out. Finally, the speeches wound down and the real ceremony was allowed to continue, the elaborate burial of a simple man. People paraded past the mausoleum, all gleaming white marble and bas relief carving, a few actually making their way up to the stricken family to offer genuine condolences. Percy lapped up the attention, finally drawn away from his brothers and sister by a Ministerial-robed older man who wanted to talk about the upcoming appointment of the new Minister for Magic. His family were not sad to see him go.

A young woman with a support spell around her neck came up and bowed correctly to Molly, rather than the boys, her face truly sad. "My name is Sally Nobel," she introduced herself when Molly didn't seem to see her. "I was Percy Weasley's secretary, but I have asked for a transfer now. I was with your father when he died; your mother rescued me when the Death Eaters cut my throat and left me to die."

"Oh, I'm Harry, that's Charlie, Ron, Ginny and Hermione," Harry managed, offering a hand.

"I am sorry to intrude, but I thought I had better tell you that your father was a good commander and a great tactician. Despite the hoopla they are trying to pull, he really did save the day, and a lot of lives. He deserved the medal and the recognition of his valour although I think he would have been vastly amused by all this fuss."

Charlie half laughed as he took her hand and shook it solemnly. "Thanks for that, it makes this farce almost seem bearable."

Before more could be said there was another burst of _Sonorus,_ then Supreme Mugwump Aramaus Morneloten made another announcement, again inappropriate to the funeral setting. "Wizards and witches, we are taking this opportunity to announce the appointment of a new Minister for Magic, contingent on his acceptance of the appointment. Constantine Clearwater is well known to many of you as a diligent and tireless worker for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and a fair and incorruptible judge on the Wizard High Court Bench. In recognition of his incessant work for our people over the years we now announce his promotion to the highest civilian governmental position the wizarding world. Witches and Wizards, I give you the new Minister for Magic, Constantine Clearwater!"

There was a distinct pause, then a round of cheering swept over the gathering, very much out of keeping with the tenor of the occasion. The noise roused Molly just a little, and suddenly she wanted to go home. A medi-witch, who had remained unobtrusively in the background, came forward and nodded understandingly to the family before activating the portkey that would take her patient back to St Mungo's for further treatment.

oo0oo

"Constantine Clearwater? Well, that's an interesting choice," Albus Dumbledore commented as he sipped tea in his former office, surrounded by portraits who were rather pleased to see him on the whole.

"Interesting in what respect?" Minerva asked, offering another biscuit with a pleased smile.

Albus grinned and took two. "He is what you call a complete oxymoron, an honest politician. Over the years he has stood fast in the face of opposition and done his best to stop corruption completely disintegrating the authority of the courts. I think, Minerva, I really do think they have made a very good choice for Minister."

"High praise indeed," the Headmistress commented in surprise. "What will be our attitude to the man?"

"Cooperate with him," Albus replied without hesitation. "I don't think any of the shiny seat warmers realise what they have done yet, but on the whole, I think he will rally the wizarding population and we may even have a chance of winning this war after all."

Minerva nodded. "And what of your 'resurrection', when are we going to announce it to the world?"

"Humm, now that is a tricky one. As soon as the announcement is made, Severus will be in grave danger. It's one thing to say Severus killed me on my orders, Tom accepted that, but when I turn up hale and whole, he is not going to be happy, and the first thing he will do is lash out at Severus and possible Draco as they will have failed him."

"And Severus can't take another beating like the last one, he barely survived it. If not for the dedicated nursing of Molly's team and Remus' careful nurturing, he would still be a vegetable, a damaged hulk."

"Do tell, Minerva?" Albus frowned and composed himself to listen attentively to the older witch as she filled him in on the year and a half he had slept through. "Humm, I see. So, we need to keep Tom so busy that he hasn't time to question Severus' part in my death or resurrection? I think we should invite Con to tea, my dear, a meeting of the two power centres of the wizarding world to find consensus in the coming crisis, don't you? And perhaps we can introduce him to the Order at the same time; that should prove how much we are going to assist him in his struggle against Lord Voldemort."

Minerva giggled girlishly at the Headmaster's overly innocent expression and guileless smile as she toasted him with a teacup. "To the little bit of Slytherin in every good Gryffindor," she proposed, then rose to use the Floo.


	35. Past, Present, Future

**Chapter 34** – _Past, Present, Future_

Dobby stood wringing his hands and hopping from one foot to the other in a constant twitter of anguish. "Dobby is promising Old Master, but Young Master is not playing fair and Dobby is a bad elf…."

The house-elf had approached Draco as he and the Gryffindor trio left the infirmary after spending some time with Lysander, who was quite happy to nap under Madam Pomfrey's eagle eye while he was so young.

"No, Dobby, you are not a bad elf, we just played a few tricks with the rules that's all," Draco assured the skittish creature who had almost knocked his brains out by hitting his head on the corner of the wall so hard. "We had to keep it a secret as you know how my Father would react."

Dobby keened and went to bang his head again, but Harry caught him and held him tightly. "What on earth is it?" he demanded as he struggled with the upset house-elf.

"It's a letter."

"From the Old Master to be given to Young Master two days after his wedding, but Dobby failed! Old Master trusted Dobby, and Dobby failed Old Master's trust!"

"Dobby, you didn't fail, it is two days after my wedding, sort of," Draco said in exasperation, his patience short with mad elves. "Look, you moronic idiot, just let me read the damned thing!"

Dobby shivered all over but at least he stopped fighting Harry and stood limp before the three Gryffindors and one Slytherin as all eyes were fixed on the limp and age-yellowed parchment the house-elf had pressed into Draco's hands that morning. The script on the front was bold and angular but a little shaky in places, that of a strong man who was ill. The seal was the Malfoy coat of arms and unbroken although a little worn on the edged from years of being stored in a house-elf's nest. Taking a deep breath, Draco broke the wax with a crack.

_Dear Draco,_

_As I pen this I am looking down on you in your cradle, wondering what to say to the man this tiny child will grow into. I am not an old man and by rights I should be there with you in your future, but alas, the follies of youth have caught up to me and I will not see this year out. Thanks to Severus I have had more time than is usually granted to most sufferers of Perryander's Disease and I have had more freedom of movement and more mental agility, again thanks to my dear Severus' potions. Enough of that._

_If Dobby has done the job I asked of him, you were married two days ago and I hope to a girl worthy of the Malfoy name. I cannot imagine which family it will be; I know Lucius was trying to connect you to Nordestrom, but I have my doubts about that connection. Perhaps you have secured a Snape, one of Severus' cousins. That would be a valuable connection and he would be pleased. However, regardless of the girl's Family, make her a worthy successor to your grandmother._

_I have no advice for you; my own marriage was very sweet, unfortunately cut short by jealousy and a Curse. Lucius and Narcissa will not be the best of parents, I'm afraid, both very self-centred and far too young to have a child yet. However, we have done our best to protect and nurture you by appointing Severus as your Godfather. He will look after you no matter what the outcome of the impending war between Light and Dark. If Lord Voldemort wins then Severus will sit at his right hand as he deeply loves his Tom, and in that position of favour, you too will be favoured. If Lord Voldemort fails, then I trust with all my heart that Severus will use his power to keep you safe and get you out of the country before any harm can come to you._

_When you return to Malfoy, go into my study and speak to my portrait, the rather ordinary one that Lenthic Montrose did. It will direct you to where I have secreted a few mementoes for you. Take care, my boy__ and have a long and happy life._

_Your Grandfather_

_Abraxas Malfoy_

"Wow, a voice from the past, indeed. Thank you, Dobby, you have done me a great service," Draco told the house-elf with a slightly crooked smile. "It's… I don't know what to say. He died before I even knew him."

"He thinks a lot of Snape," Harry commented softly into the thoughtful silence.

"What he said is true, Severus was and is a powerful wizard, only not quite as Grandfather envisaged. I - I have to go think about this for a while," Draco said distractedly, dropped a kiss on his wife's nose and wandered off.

oo0oo

The new Minister for Magic sat behind his wonderfully fashioned and polished desk and smiled at the three men seated before him. "I am most pleased to be appointed Minister, and I will fill the office to the best of my abilities," he assured them with a smile. "I realise the office of Minister has fallen into disrepute over the last few years, and you, Rufus, had only just begun to bring it back to its full significance, a hard and long journey, I think. However, it is one I plan to continue, working in your footsteps to accomplish the things a Minister for Magic needs to accomplish to keep all our people safe from the horrid menace of Lord Voldemort."

The smug complacency his first part of speech had fostered in Scrimgeour withered when the older man saw the light in his successor's eyes. This man had his own agenda, and they were about to feel the first whisk of the new broom. The Supreme Mugwump was still nodding and smiling as the new Minister produced a roll of parchment and opened it on the desk's pristine surface.

"My first decision concerns you and your department intimately, Rufus. During my time as High Court Justice, I was most distressed to find a number of people were being tossed into Azkaban without even a rudimentary hearing. Now, you must agree that one fiasco like the Black case is quite enough in each lifetime, so I have decided to appoint a Junior Minister to review the status and condition of every prisoner held in Azkaban, look over the cases, weigh the evidence against each person and classify the person. I have appointed Percy Weasley to this task as he has an eye for detail and is a son of a well respected and very fair-minded hero of the Wizarding world. I believe you have worked with Percy before, Rufus."

The eyes were clear and guileless but Scrimgeour knew he had been done over like a dinner; all he could do was bow slightly and accept the new auditor of his Department. Still, Weasley was a reasonable and most conscientious young man who could be 'guided' if handled correctly.

Aramaus Morneloten looked slightly apprehensive as the smiling maniac turned his open and honest countenance on him. "The Wizengamot has also been hampered by a Minister with an agenda that does not do our people very much good," he said softly. "Many of the recently passed laws were sent through with a stamper spell on them, usually without being properly read or even evaluated against the good of the wizarding world as a whole. I'm sure you will agree that alienating whole segments of the population is not a very wise thing to do when you are on the brink of war, particularly when the laws seem especially designed to send those sections discriminated against fleeing into the arms of the opposition. I refer particularly to the laws pertaining to internal security, discrimination against magical creatures and the disruption of international trade."

"What… what? How has international trade been disrupted?" Morneloten asked in shock.

"Half of the European Congress of Nations is made up of Old Families, many of which have Vampire, Elven and Veela blood. They are usually served by the second level of non-humans, Centaurs, werewolves and the Afrit races. The Commonwealth's removal of basic rights from these races is seen as a slap in the face for the powerbrokers in Europe and consequently, many of the Continental nations are beginning to refuse trade agreements. If we want to repair the damage we need to review and repeal quite a lot of the newest laws of discrimination, do you see?" The earnestness of the Minister shone through like a beacon in the darkness, however there was a hardness behind the eyes that informed the Supreme Mugwump that this was not a suggestion.

"Do you have any ideas or directions?" the man asked, running a finger around the collar of his robes.

"Naturally…"

oo0oo

Percy looked around his new office in quiet satisfaction, rubbing his hands together gleefully. It was twice as big as his old office, and he now had four secretaries to do his bidding. Every magical record of the proceedings of the High Wizard Court had been accessed and was at his fingertips, the newest first. It was his job to evaluate the cases, see first of all, who'd had hearings and who had been sent straight to Azkaban without trial. Those who had no trial were his first priority. He was to make sure there was a case against each person, see what evidence was there and whether the case was a real one or a nuisance 'Death Eaters under the bed' case. It was all very exciting and he couldn't wait to get started. Besides, if he buried himself in work he might be able to drown the memories of the post funeral fiasco with his family, what was left of it.

He shuddered when he pictured his mother cursing him in the kitchen, Charlie telling him he was a self-centred git who put prestige and recognition before the good and indeed the love of his family, which was just not true! He had said that too, loudly, glaring at Charlie and Ron as they faced him across the restaurant table where they had chosen to meet him. He had loved his father as much as any of them, but he was a realist, he knew which side his bread was buttered on, and where the cake could be had. Yes, his father was a loving one, a fine husband and a good man, but he was a complete nightmare when it came to the things that mattered, like upholding the family name and making sure they didn't look like bloody charity cases all their lives.

Percy felt he had scored a telling hit with Ron on that point but then Ginny had waded in, saying Mother had told her Percy had deserted their father in the face of the enemy, making sure he got out and safe without even bothering to lift a finger to send help back to the beleaguered Ministry. At that his two brothers had gone wide-eyed, and Percy still cringed as he watched the tide of disgust and hatred creep into their faces.

"You ran? A Weasley and a Gryffindor ran in the face of the enemy? What sort of coward are you?" Charlie had asked in disbelief.

"I'm the live kind!" Percy had snapped back without thinking, and Ginny had slapped him, knocking him over backwards in her fury.

The bruise was still on his face two weeks later, hidden under glamour charms. They had told him never to darken their doorways again, never to contact, speak or even think about any of them as he was dead to them, as dead as last week's dog's meat, not fit to be buried in the Weasley plot or appear on the Weasley clock or be written in the Weasley bible; he wasn't fit to polish the shoes of a Weasley living or dead.

Sighing deeply, Percy scrubbed his face and pulled the first folder closer. Even if he had lost everything he thought he didn't care about but actually did, he still had his work to keep him going.

oo0oo

Jonathon McCarthy unrolled the piece of parchment he held and took a deep breath before he began to read aloud. "By order of the Minister for Magic, with the consent and ratification by the Wizengamot and the Aurors Department, let it be known that the following laws, edicts and decrees are now lifted, voided and made null. Let it be known that first; the Isle of Cardoul is no longer maintained as a concentration camp for those infected with lycanthropy. Werewolves caught committing an offence or breaking laws will still be sent there for their own protection but only as a last resort. Secondly, the Child Protection act - Werewolf Clause - has been completely repealed, and those children still in care will be returned to their parents as soon as is practical. Thirdly, werewolves will no longer be processed and given mandatory sterilisation upon infection or their 13th birthday, whichever is the more practical…."

The dull hum of conversation from the gathering grew louder as each amendment was read out. A strangled sob greeted one clause, a grunt of satisfaction another until the old man lowered the parchment and surveyed his Alphas with hooded eyes. "Any questions?"

"Who are they trying to kid?" a burly man demanded, pushing to the front of the pack. "No more sterilisations? What good is that?"

"Ask Shadow Bitch, Windbiter, her daughter is almost thirteen and terrified, now she will be spared the indignity of sterilisation," someone else called from the back of the gathering.

"Will we really be able to get our children back? Even if they are not werewolves?"

"What about the people who are already incarcerated on Cardoul? What of them?"

"Will we be granted jobs and full citizenship?" someone else demanded bitterly.

The Alpha Prime tipped back his head and howled for order, the restless wolves settling a little as a rather slender man stepped out of the shadows, waves of nervous stink rolling off him. The gathering sniffed as one, then growled uneasily. McCarthy smiled toothily. "Let me introduce you to the new Minister for Magic, Constantine Clearwater. He is here to answer any questions we might have as best he can. Minister?"

"Er, Ladies and Gentlemen, I realise this is somewhat unorthodox, but I felt it would be best if I was to address you directly rather than just make pronouncements from the Ministry building, which is really more of an idea than an actual building at the moment." The crowd allowed themselves to laugh at his small joke but all were listening, their attention an almost physical pressure on the man. "The 'Werewolf Reforms' as they are being called are more a matter of repealing recent, very unfair laws that were put in place unlawfully. A number of the former Ministry staff have been exposed as Death Eaters or sympathisers, and a lot of the very worst abuses have been traced back to their interference in the natural course of lawmaking. Years ago one of your own people alerted us to the horrors that were being perpetrated on the Isle of Cardoul. Once we did our duty and investigated the island, we were disgusted and have been quietly working to make the island into a place fit for human habitation. There are proper shops and homes, schools and amenities for people living on the island and all may freely apparate in or out except at full moon when the wards close and no one can apparate in or out."

"So now if you offend you are turned straight into potions ingredients instead of being exiled to freeze to death then getting turned into potions ingredients," a wit from the left said sarcastically.

The Minister smiled. "Well, perhaps not quite that quickly, at least we can now guarantee the offender a trial instead of an instant trip."

"Our children, how are we to reclaim our children, when can we reclaim them?"

"The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was pretty much destroyed by the Death Eaters' last raid and a lot of the records were lost. However… _however_, we have set up three liaison officers to help track down the children and get them back to any family which wants them as soon as possible." He tried to continue over the roar of angry voices but was unable until a howl rang out, making the trees around them shiver with the noise.

"Listen to the Minister, some of us lost more than just records in that raid, don't let it be in vain!" a thin faced man with a the marks of great sorrow still on his cheeks said flatly. "Those bastards arrested my Pellar for nothing more than a glare at a pushy witch, and she was destroyed in the raid, her body carved by torture when it was returned to me. Was it the Death Eaters or was it the Control Officers? I don't know but I care that those times might be stopped."

There was an uneasy but deferential silence as the Minister sighed. "I can promise you it was Death Eaters who hurt your wife; they killed a lot of people in their raid, ours too, as well as civilians. Oh, and that is something else we have been redressing. Marriage of lycanthropes and non-lycanthropes are as legal and as binding as any other marriage. No one partner will 'own' the other, and the rights and responsibilities will be equal in the eyes of the law. Any children born of the union will be the legal offspring of that union with full wizarding birthrights and entitlements…."

"Even if they inherit the lycanthropy from their parents?"

"Even so," Minister Clearwater confirmed. "So it is written, so it is done. It was proposed, seconded and carried this morning. I don't say the public will change their minds instantly and suddenly enfold lycanthropes into the bosom of their families, but at least you now have a chance of living a reasonable and humane life. Are there any further questions?"

"What's in all this for the Ministry?"

Constantine Clearwater took a deep breath then sighed. "Hopefully, unity within our borders and to give a clear message to those outside our borders, we of England can co-exist with members of other species and of other magical races. Quite frankly, we need to keep the Europeans on-side, and if granting our own citizens a few of the basic human freedoms is how to do it, then there is absolutely no conflict of interest. It should never have happened in the first place but since it did, my government will do everything in its power to redress the balance and restore the rights of semi-humans."

"Thank you, Minister, Remus Lupin will escort you back to the Ministry and meet with the liaison officers to set up the child return system. Alphas, return to your packs and spread the word, contact the Beta Prime for any questions and information. Dismissed."

oo0oo

"How did you feel it went, Mr Lupin?" the Minister asked as they apparated into the temporary office space the Ministry had rented from the Muggle Government.

Remus weighed his words carefully. "As you said, it is a start. And when you managed to realise we are people with a disease we didn't choose to have, not 'semi-humans' to be tolerated, then we may all live in peace and harmony forever."

Such cynicism from the blandly smiling man rocked the Minister to his core.


	36. Storm Clouds Looming

**Chapter 35** – _Storm Clouds Looming_

Nagini slithered silently along the stone flags and carefully coiled around her master's left leg. Her body contracted rhythmically as she circled, climbing higher, and across his groin, stopping to taste the familiar scent before she continued the journey up his torso. As her coil circled his chest, she touched her forked tongue to his lips in a gentle kiss before raising her triangular head to whisper in his ear. "_They come, Master,_" she informed him before continuing her journey over his right shoulder, across his back and down to his waist and hips. Her body was oiled silk as the coils slid across each other with a whisper of scales, her length circling his right leg to pile in loose coils about his feet, guarding him as the three men he had Summoned approached.

"Ah, my trusted servants," Lord Voldemort hissed, a parody of a smile of welcome twisting his face. "Come closer, I have much to say."

Nagini watched with the unblinking stare of her kind as the fat rat approached and flung himself at her master's feet, careful not to touch her body even with his ragged clothes. Her master had promised her that, once the rat has passed his usefulness, he was hers to feast upon, such a delicious thought for the future. She said '_yum-yum_' and the rat scurried away from her hissing laughter to crouch where he considered himself out of reach, her master laughed too. She allowed it for the moment.

Next came the pale one, always just that bit withdrawn and watchful. Nagini didn't trust this one; he was a mongoose man, treacherous and swift to dash in, bite and then flees. Of all, he was the least trusted by her, a danger to her master and herself.

"My Lord?" Malfoy murmured, going down on one knee and kissing the hem of the Lord's robes, the scent of expensive cologne and soap emanating from his robes, cloying and suffocating. He almost touched Nagini's coils, but a glance at where her head followed his every movement made him back away, careful not to seem rushed.

The snake came next; this one Nagini liked and wished he could speak the tongue as he intrigued her. He moved like a snake, smooth and powerful, gliding without noise over the flagstones. When he sank to his knees his head was on a level with Nagini and she brought her face close to his, flicking her tongue over his lips, tasting raw meat and wildness. He always smelt of exotic things, often indecipherable but rarely unpleasant. She liked how he did not flinch and she knew that he would fight honourably, should he have to.

"My Lord," he murmured as he smiled at the snake then kissed the hem with no outward sign of distress. He rather liked Nagini, she was so uncomplicated and very prettily marked. A pity she was what she was.

"My faithful servants." It was a smug statement which made Malfoy bristle. "Madam Malfoy brought me the thing I charged you with retrieving for me, Lucius. She tells me she was sent to the right area by your planning, therefore I will not punish you for failing to do my bidding."

"Thank you, Milord," Lucius murmured softly.

"Wormtail, do you recognise this toy?"

"Yes, my Lord, it is the soft toy Sirius Black gave to Harry Potter on his first birthday. I recognise it by the collar around its neck. It has a bell on it, a brass bell. Lily Potter thought it might come off and choke the brat, but the charm on it was particularly baby proof so she allowed her child to keep it."

Severus narrowed his eyes but held his peace. He remembered seeing a whole shelf of the plush toys in Zonko's, a whole rack of bloody Grims when he was shopping for Draco's Christmas present, and he had refused to even consider such a thing for his Godson. If he recalled correctly, every single one of them had brass bells on their collars, so there was a good chance that this was not Harry Potter's toy at all. Tom was speaking again and he returned his attention to the travesty of his ex-lover.

"Severus, I want a potion that will make this toy even more receptive to the sympathetic magic I plan to use upon it, to amplify the effects a thousand fold." The malicious glee washed over Severus in waves as he bowed acquiescence to the order.

"Of course, milord, as you will it," he murmured softly, his mind racing. A generic potion could be used, untailored to any specific person. That way there was a good change that the owner of the toy would be affected, but if it wasn't Harry Potter then two people were in for a surprise, the Dark Lord and the real owner, and neither of them pleasant.

"My faithful servants." Lord Voldemort smiled as he dismissed them without punishment.

oo0oo

Constantine Clearwater accepted the headmistress' hand and shook it gratefully as he took the seat she offered and the tea she poured. It was all very cosy in the Head's study, the portraits of headmasters past smiling or scowling down on him as he sipped his tea sociably.

"So, how are you finding the position as Minister, Constantine?" Minerva asked, remembering Con as the boy who used to torment her and her friends years ago. He had grown up rather well, married a fellow Gryffindor and had gone on to have a number of children and grand children, some of whom were still in school.

"Come now, Minnie, we weren't always so formal," he teased, taking one of the offered biscuits with a sly, merry grin.

Minerva grinned back. "No, especially after the frog incident," she reminded with an equally mischievous chuckle. "You were such a brat!"

They both laughed reminiscently before sighing. "And now we are important, powerful people in our society, and we need to find consensus before the, er, dragon drops its load on us." Con smirked as she chuckled and nodded.

"True, from fifty feet up probably, with our luck. So you do believe Voldemort is behind the Death Eaters, then?" she questioned frankly.

"Let us say that the Ministry, as a matter of policy, is willing to consider the _possibility_ of You-Know-Who's return, but personally, I absolutely believe the red-eyed freak is out there and is as dangerous as he ever was."

Minerva visibly relaxed. She remembered Con had lost his wife to Voldemort's first rampage, and although Sheena had been one of her friends, she couldn't help but be thankful that Con knew first hand how dangerous Voldemort could be. "Then I think we can deal well together," she said softly. "Very well, there is something I have to tell you, but it has to stay between these four walls just at the moment. Albus is alive and well and living in the Room of Requirement at the moment."

"Albus Dumbledore? But … but _how_?" Con burst out incredulously.

"You probably heard that Severus killed him but was then cleared through Albus' Pensieve. You probably thought, like the rest of the wizarding world, that it was an elaborate bribery and whitewash scheme, yes?"

"Well… yes, it seemed too far-fetched and blatantly self-serving to be real," the Minister admitted, his head cocked in interest.

"Good, that was the impression we wanted to foster. Severus really did _not_ kill the Headmaster; he merely put his body into a death coma and put his spirit into limbo so the old man could recover from a dreadful curse that was slowly killing him. So, now the Headmaster is all better, we need to keep it very quiet until the right time, or Severus will suffer dreadfully for his deed. Voldemort will kill him very slowly."

"Without a doubt," Constantine mused slowly. "What do you want from me?" he asked, sipping his tea again.

"I want you to verify the headmaster's authenticity, run the exhaustive tests on his magic and his person to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt to all the sceptics he is who he says he is," Minerva stated baldly. "Even more importantly, you have to be able to convince that idiot Scrimgeour of his reality, which I guarantee will be the hardest task of all."

"Yes, Rufus is somewhat pigheaded," Constantine sighed. "Very well, I can do that for you. May I meet the headmaster?"

"Oh, of course. Albus will be here momentarily."

The minister rose swiftly and quickly took the hand Dumbledore offered, shaking it vigorously, a wide grin of welcome on his face. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Headmaster. I was wondering how we were going to be able to prevail against this evil we call Voldemort, but now I see it will be a darned sight easier than I envisioned with your support and powerful assistance," he gushed as they were both waved to chairs by Minerva.

"My dear fellow, you put me to blush," Albus replied with equally fulsome enthusiasm. "I know things are not as salubrious as they could be, but surely they are not as dire as to make the support of one old man so very important?"

Minerva glared as she realised the Headmaster was taking the piss, even if Con did not. "Con has agreed to test you and make sure your credentials are impeccable."

"I will, of course, need a pair of Unspeakables as witnesses, and I will need them to analyse your wand, your magical signature and your personal signature then we will lodge the documented evidence very quietly with the Ministry Keeper of Records. That way, you will be on file without making a great fuss of it."

"That sounds perfectly acceptable," Albus conceded with a merry grin. "So, Minerva, can we warm the teapot, do you think?"

She shook her head in resignation and proceeded to pour more tea.

oo0oo

Severus stared at the Headmaster in dawning horror, realising that this could be his last night on earth. "You want me to take the news of your resurrection to the Dark Lord before it hits the rumour mill or is leaked to the newspaper. Headmaster!" The Potions Master almost wailed as he studied the old man twinkling and smiling at him.

"I know, Severus, what I am asking of you is probably the most dangerous thing I ever have, but I fear the consequences to you if you do not 'come clean' to Tom as soon as possible."

"So, die tonight or die tomorrow, my choice, I take it," Severus sneered furiously, his glare so sharp it was a wonder the headmaster was not cut by the sheer intensity of it.

Albus hung his head before looking up slowly. "We can take precautions; cast protections over your vital organs and retrieval charms on you so that, in the event you are too injured to Apparate under your own power, we can pull you out. Severus, you are very important to us all, and I would no more abandon you to Tom's tender mercies than abandon … Harry. But, Severus, only you are capable of fulfilling this assignment, only you have the ability to pull it off with any chance of succeeding."

"Flattery, Headmaster? I would not have thought it of you."

"Not flattery, my boy, a simple statement of truth. We all owe you so much that the debt is insurmountable, I fear."

Severus shivered down to his bones as he waited in the dank, dirty antechamber, formally a withdrawing room in the old Riddle house. Getting an audience with the Dark Lord was not something arranged lightly, and it had taken Lucius' intervention to actually make the appointment. Finally, the great doors opened and the fat rat beckoned Severus forward into the august presence of their Lord. As Severus approached the dais, he stared at the Lord, a shudder of distaste making him wonder where his head had been all those years ago and where his Tom had gone. This creature looked like nothing so much as a bloody Dementor. Still, conventions needed to be satisfied and Severus dutifully fell to his knees on the hard slated steps before his master.

"So, my Ssseverusss, you request an audience with me. What do you think is so important that you must attempt to order your Master around?"

"My Lord, a potential disaster, I fear, may be brewing. It is rumoured that Albus Dumbledore has been brought back to the land of the living. That the reason his tomb was desecrated last month was because the Order of the Phoenix discovered a method to bring him back from the dead!"

"You assured me you had disposed of the headmaster using _Avada Kedavra_, my Severus, did you not? Do you now have the audacity to tell me you lied to me?" Tom rose to his full height, glaring down at the Potions Master, his wand twitching in his hand. "You have failed me, my Ssseverusss! _Crucio!_"

Severus writhed on the ground, a world of agony enfolding him until he felt his head was about to explode. A curl of something rebellious moved in his mind and he forced himself to seek beyond the pain, to wrap his mind around the solid core of strength and stubbornness left to him. He was not an animal to crawl and mewl at the feet of his master while losing control of his bodily functions and his dignity. He realised the curse had been lifted, and Tom was furiously hexing and exploding everything else he could reach in his ire. Fumbling in his robes, he found a potion and drank it down, gathering his legs under himself and slowly levering himself up into a kneeling, then sitting position before the Dark Lord realised he was conscious again. Even as Tom swung on him, wand extended, Severus had had enough and without thinking he cast _Silencio_ on the Dark Lord, much to his shock.

"That is enough, Tom, casting _Crucio_ on the messenger is not going to resolve anything. Do you want to know how they did it? They used his pet phoenix's eld to grant him renewed life, blood of the son, flesh of the servant, hair of the brother, a similar formula to the one you used to recreate the body you are using at this moment. Instead of protesting what cannot be helped, I would suggest you start planning what to do about it," Severus snapped then lifted the hex, expecting to die in a few seconds.

The Dark Lord raised his wand but then sighed, sounding rather like his old self for a second. "Blasted old bastard, he's as tricky as a fox and as slippery as a snake. I sometimes wonder if he is really a Slytherin, rather than the Gryffindor he pretends to be. Still, he is but one man! Carry on with your assignment, my Severus, this changes nothing!"

Severus blinked then bowed to hide his shock. His shoulders never stopped expecting a killing curse as he made his way out of the presence and managed to apparate away safely.

oo0oo

12 Grimmauld Place was humming with activity, everyone there except Professor Snape, who had locked himself in his potions laboratory and refused to come out except for teaching, or so the rest of the world was informed. The Order knew he was doing his best to avoid having to report anything to You-Know-Who. As it was a general meeting, he had to avoid being seen by the general members too, since his role was a secretive and dangerous one.

Remus surveyed the fifty or so members gathered in the ballroom, the hospital cots pushed over to the side of the walls for the moment. He nodded to various people, acknowledging their greetings as he took his place before the temporary lectern and called for attention. The audience settled to a dull hum as he pulled up the first item of business.

"We have a number of new members tonight, as you can see. Each of the new members has sworn their loyalty to the Light and their willingness to join the fight to keep our world from plunging into the shadow of Dark Magic. After a great deal of discussion and soul searching, every single one of you has decided that we, the Order of the Phoenix, need a tangible and indelible mark to identify fellow members. There was a large measure of angst generated by this suggestion, after all a certain other cadre of antagonists mark their members with the indelible symbol of ownership and many of us were wary about, er, infringing copyright?" There were a couple of barks of laughter and some outright giggling at his droll expression.

"We gotta be more tasteful than that really bad copy of a Gothic tattoo," someone from the body of the hall commented loudly, causing even more laughter.

"Yes, I think we have come up with a much more tasteful design," Remus promised them when the laugher died down a little. "Filius Flitwick has designed the charm that will be used in conjunction with the transfiguration spell used to create the actual tattoo. Our own potions expert has formulated the ink and the headmaster's phoenix has donated the tears to make sure the potion is the best and highest quality of light magic we can muster. Everyone has had a chance to vote on the design and the number three design received the most votes. So, tonight, each person will receive their phoenix in the place they designate it, preferably on limb or neck. The charms make the tattoo invisible to the general eye unless you decide to make it visible. The spells and charms guarantee it will tingle in the presence of a Dark Mark and thus warn you of the presence of evil. When two phoenixes are together, it will feel pleasant and warm and thus you will know a fellow member. However, it will grow uncomfortable and prickling in the presence of a fake or danger. So, are we all agreed in this resolve?"

"Er, what about spies?" Alastor Moody asked, scratching at an old scar.

"Our spies in his camp will be marked but in a slightly different way. Filius has managed to… well, that is not important. Their spies in our camp will be unable to stand the penning process so we will each of us know if we are truly of the Light tonight. So, I will go first. As a Dark Creature, it should be interesting. Alastor, if you would be so kind?" Only a very few of his closest friends noticed the irony in his voice.

Alastor nodded and pulled out his wand, dipping the tip in the batch of glowing, opalescent potion Minerva held out. The spells were complex, but both Alastor and Minerva had learned them off by heart, saying them quietly and carefully as Alastor held his wand tip to Remus' biceps. The tattoo drew itself, absorbing the paint and the charms and glowing softly in the dimly lit ballroom, and then it disappeared. The skin remained smooth and unmarked except for a couple of scars. The susurration of speculation swept the hall as Remus peered at his own shoulder then rolled his sleeve back down with a pleased smile.

"Thank you, a perfect job, who is next?"

Minerva offered her hand and nodded approvingly as Remus said the charms in accompaniment with Alastor's wand work. The actual magical expenditure on each tattoo was not great; it was the complexity of the spells working in conjunction with each other and with the phoenix tears potion that gave such potency to the new badge of Light. Even so, the markers were growing very tired by the time they had marked everyone in the hall. Some tattoos were large, covering a shoulder or a thigh; some were tiny, on the back of a hand or on a cheek, but each was as potent as the other, indelible, incorruptible and incapable of being counterfeited.

Giving everyone time to admire the beautiful, glowing phoenixes they now sported, Remus finally called for order. "To show the tattoo, use the spell _manifesto fulgoris_ while thinking of the marker. To hide them, think at the picture and say _abdo fulgoris_, this will make the tattoo disappear." As he spoke, Remus made his new tattoo glow and then disappear. The radiance for the phoenix even shone through his black Muggle-style tee-shirt very successfully. He almost burst out laughing as the crowd before him began to flash on and off like American lightening bugs. "Alright, people. Someone whom you do not know has agreed to assist us with the next part of the demonstration. None of you are to react in any way as this person is putting their very life in our hands to assist us at this point and if they are discovered, they will be killed instantly. Come in, please."

There were a few concerted gasps as a Death Eater entered the hall and glided smoothly down the central aisle, no movement betraying even the slightest clue to who it might be. Mounting the podium, he held out his left arm and rolled up his sleeve to reveal the Morsmordre in dead, living black on his forearm. Remus moved the bottle of potion near to the mark and the Death Eater hissed as the potion glowed white hot. Remus scratched his tattoo as it too began to react to the presence of the Dark Mark. He also noticed quite a few of the front row squirming as their newly created markers began to react.

"Potent, isn't it? It will cause you a bit of discomfort if I mark you now, you know?" he added quietly.

"Just do it, can't be much worse than this one anyway," the shrouded figure grunted.

"Where? Right hand? Ready, Alastor? Here we go."

It was not an effortless process for the Death Eater, a muted grunt of pain making the audience wince in sympathy as the phoenix was incised into the back of his right hand. They had to stop a number of times as the potion burned and bubbled in the presence of evil. When it was finally over, Alastor and Minerva had to catch the black robed figure as it slumped. Remus found a reviving draft and poured it into the white mask with a sympathetic expression. "Will you be alright now?"

"As long as the masking spell works, I should be, but I tell you now, the Dark Mark senses it. Others in the Dark Lord's society will know there is something up. May I suggest you do not mark anyone of a higher rank than I?"

"Suggestion noted. Sorry to ask this of you, but would you mind leaving while we make the next announcement?"

The mask nodded and the Death Eater moved away to the shadows at the back of the stage area. The crack of apparition sounded even as a door opened at the other end of the hall and another person came in. The whispers were not so contained and held no fear as an all too familiar figure wandered down the central aisle, nodding a greeting , shaking a hand or simply grinning as he passed. Tentative clapping broke out and grew stronger as the old man mounted the podium and was drawn into a tight hug by the headmistress.

"We have some good news," Remus began but the cheers and clapping from the hall drowned him out as the headmaster raised his hands and waved for silence.

"Now, now, people, listen to Remus. There you are, my boy, try now," he added as a modicum of silence fell.

"Thank you, Albus. As you can see, the headmaster is back from his long and most needed rest. The Ministry has confirmed he is who he says he is, magically, physically and spiritually. Now he is back, may the war begin and may the Light drive the shadows away from the wizarding world once again."

The cheering rocked the old hall as Remus spoke to the headmaster under the cover of the cheering. "I always wanted to say that!" he laughed in relief.


	37. Gathering Momentum

**Chapter 36** – _Gathering Momentum_

The ballroom of the Riddle House was filthier than it had ever been, the gathering doing their best to ignore the stink of dirt and corruption that permeated the very stones of the walls. The torches flickered and danced, shadows looming and leering, as the gathering bent their knees to the dirty flagstones, heads bowed as their Master ascended the throne and looked down on them in hissing contempt.

"My faithful servants," he leered, but did not bid them to rise; he liked to see the cream of the pure-bloods grovelling at his feet in the dirt while he knew he had the power of life and death over them at a whim. These wretched animals were his playthings, his to command or destroy as he saw fit. He spoke to them of the Grand Plan, of their places in his organisation and the way they were going to triumph, and drank in their adulation as his due. He encouraged them to clap and cheer by distributing small doses of his attention to various members, making them writhe and sweat under his _Cruciatus Curse_ with immense enjoyment of their pain. He spoke of the resurrection of the Headmaster and showed his followers just how insignificant the man was, a has-been, a spent match, a nothing. He almost laughed when they moaned and gibbered at the mere sound of the old fool's name. Those lily-livered dirt crawlers earned themselves a long and most painful dose of the _Cruciatus Curse_ for their cowardice. This was power! He outlines his plan for the twenty-ninth of February, the ritual he would perform to make the very elements bend to his own design. "Severus, where are you?" he finally called in a playful, singsong tone that boded no good for the recipient of his attention.

"My Lord." A shadow moved in the shadows and the Potions Master glided forward to kneel before him.

Lord Voldemort glared down at the bent hood, knowing the man did not kneel subserviently but in the manner of a Japanese warrior, not subservient but proud. It enraged Voldemort, but he had never been able to break Severus even after the treatment he had received last year, he had not broken in spirit, only in body. The only way to break Severus was to kill him and even then, he would probably come back as a really nasty ghost. The small remaining fraction of Tom Riddle was amused at the thought, and Lord Voldemort hissed as he bent to study the servant more closely. "You have something to tell me?" he asked silkily, his cold, hissing voice rasping on the nerves of all ears.

"The _object_ is prepared, milord, although I have not been able to confirm its provenance any more closely than originally. However, it will conduct magic effortlessly," the man said without expression.

"You have done well, my Severus. Show me."

A long, pale hand held out the scruffy soft toy looking even more battered and worn than it had before. There was now a slightly green cast to the cloth, a property that seemed to absorb the ambient light without casting a shadow. Even longer bone white fingers reached forward, a thumb caressing the side of Severus' hand as the Dark Lord picked the toy out of his grasp and studied it closely. "Humm, it is ready," he murmured softly, stroking the plush head in an obscene parody of affection. "Alisont, have you finished the task I gave you?"

A second figure scrabbled forward on his knees and bowed deeply before the Lord, speaking into the stones in terror. "I have, my Lord. Moving the Ministry files from one building to the next gave me a perfect opportunity to grab the plans you required, and I did so as soon as I possibly could. I had them copied and brought your the originals while I altered the copies to make sure there was no trace of the tunnels and earthworks left on file at the Ministry. This is the only set of plans that shows the complete extent of the tunnels, the water and the sewerage pipes anywhere in the wizarding world, I do assure --"

"_Crucio_! A simple yes would have sufficed," Lord Voldemort said in bored tones.

Severus carefully gathered the fluttering pages from the convulsing man's hands before handing them up to his Lord. His eyes bored into the diagrams, not understanding them but memorising the information for retrieval from his Pensieve as soon as possible. The rest of the gathering were moving uneasily as their peer continued to writhe and gasp under the pain induction curse until he stopped moving completely. All the while, the Potions Master never blinked or flinched as Lord Voldemort perused the plans carefully.

"Very good … oh. Dispose of it, Severus," he muttered, waving a vague hand at the corpse twisted on the floor.

Severus pulled his wand slowly, knowing a fast movement might be seen as hostile, then transfigured the body into a pebble. Keeping his movements slow and careful, he dropped the pebble into his pocket but did not slide his wand back up his sleeve yet. Such casual disregard for life was sickening but perfectly normal in this mad and bad gathering of conscienceless fools.

"Lucius." The Lord looked up from the paperwork, and Lucius hurried forward to kneel beside his former lover, his head bowed low.

"My Lord," he murmured unctuously.

"Are the battle groups ready?"

"My Lord, they are," Lucius said firmly with an even lower bow. "We are ready to rise at your slightest word and annihilate the enemy wherever they stand."

"Excellent, excellent, and will we win?"

The hesitation was but a second, but it was too long and Lucius writhed under the Cruciatus curse until he vomited blood on the floor.

"Severus, will we win?"

"Of course we will," Severus replied without hesitation. "There will be a great victory, and everyone will speak your name with hushed reverence."

"Flatterer." The _Cruciatus Curse_ flung him back on his back but only lasted long enough to make him ache in every joint.

Severus struggled back to his knees and nodded to the Lord. It looked like thanks but was not, even as the skeletal Lord swirled away in a swish of ragged robes. Unobtrusively, Severus cast a cleansing charm over Lucius and a pain relieving charm too, even though wand magic was not his best method. The blond lord shuddered and managed to nod his thanks almost unobtrusively as he too struggled back onto his knees using Severus' shoulder to lever himself up. He came quickly to attention as the Lord swirled back to the gathering. "Final preparations will begin as soon as the auguries are favourable to our cause; then the strength I hold will be at its fullest. I will annihilate Harry Potter, Hogwarts, the Wizengamot and everything else that might attempt to stand against me in a glorious burst of power such as this world has never seen before!"

A loud, enthusiastic cheer went up from the gathering of lieutenants, while the two men in the front of the crowd nodded and smiled, clapping as enthusiastically as their peers but the sideways glances they exchanged were of a different character. As soon as they were released, Lucius mouthed 'Malfoy' and both men disapparated simultaneously.

They appeared on the driveway before the bound oak doors that led into the Malfoy Great Hall, Lucius groaning as his very bones protested their treatment. Severus took his elbow to steady him for a moment then sighed deeply. "You want a potion?" he asked heavily as Lucius began to limp away to the family entrance near the east wing, their robes and masks transfigured back into everyday apparel.

"A potion and a bloody tall glass of Ogden's to wash it down with," Lucius muttered ruefully as they entered the private study and the master went straight to the far cupboard, matching actions to wishes. Severus accepted the glass and dropped wearily into his usual chair while Lucius flung himself onto the sofa with an equally heavy sigh. There was silence while the whiskey levels fell and the aches eased under the soothing influence of the potion Severus had given his old friend. "You know he's mad, don't you?" Lucius murmured so quietly, Severus wasn't entirely sure he had heard him. "Mad as a meat-axe and twice as dangerous. Promise me you will look after Draco, Severo, regardless of the outcome. I never wanted it to come to this, wizard against wizard, friend against friend. It was supposed to be glorious; a triumph for the purity of magic, a reaffirmation that we were Merlin's chosen ones. Instead we are trafficking with demons, dabbling in voodoo and working in secret cells like Muggles in a very bad spy thriller. My father must be spinning in his grave."

"My grandmother is cackling her fool head off too," Severus acknowledged equally softly. "She probably thinks it's poetic justice."

The two old friends sighed in unison and continued to drink in silence.

oo0oo

"I have colour coded the files to make it easier to work with them," Percy Weasley said pompously as he addressed the three people around the conference table. "The blue files are those who I believe are innocent of any wrong-doing, sent to Azkaban without trial, without any real evidence and therefore should be dealt with first."

The pile was startlingly large, almost half the files in the stacks that were neatly assembled in the large warehouse office the investigative team had been assigned.

"Example," Scrimgeour demanded harshly.

Percy pulled a random file out. "Angela Ramsey, accused by her neighbour of being a Death Eater and jailed two years ago. She was seen wearing a black robe and white mask coming in late at night."

The other two men leaned forward expecting more detail, but the redhead simply closed the folder and went to grab another. "Hold on, what else?" Rodney Salamanca asked encouragingly.

"Nothing else, that was all," Percy replied and again reached for another folder.

"But … but … that's ridiculous! How can a girl be jailed for wearing a black dress?" Megan Johansson demanded aghast."

"And a white mask," Auror Scrimgeour reminded her quickly.

"Did they find the mask? Was it a dark night? What sort of robes were they? Good God, a real Death Eater doesn't parade around in robes and a mask in public! Surely someone must have thought there was something a little odd about this case?"

Percy blinked and flicked through the folder again. "No, no protests except by her parents. She was taken into custody and shipped to Azkaban the same day, no trial, no hearing."

"Oh my God, that's appalling, how many cases are like that?" Rodney asked shocked.

"All the blue files, more or less," Percy said evenly.

Even Rufus had the grace to look ashamed as the other two shot furious looks in his direction. "It was a time of hysteria, and we were told to do what we could to mitigate the problems, to be seen to be doing something by any and all means," he defended uneasily.

"And you saw shipping innocent people off to Azkaban as a viable solution?" Megan asked in disgust. "Why the hell didn't you just tack 'V-V-Voldemort wants you' posters to the doors of the Ministry?"

"Careful," Percy said dryly. "Loose talk like that will get you a snapped wand and a one way ticket to Azkaban."

"Was that a joke, Weasley?" Scrimgeour asked ominously.

"No, it was directive one hundred and sixty two, treasonable slander against the Wizengamot, actually."

"At least the Dementors have left Azkaban, and these people should be still reasonably sane," Rodney muttered, cradling his head in his hands.

"Well, no, that's not strictly true either," Percy said quietly. "Not all Dementors left the island to join He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, there's still a healthy breeding colony on the island."

"Oh my God, can it get any worse?" Johansson asked in a hushed tone.

"The Dementors are no longer controlled in any way; they have free run of the island and can feed anywhere they like, not only on happiness, but on, er, souls, too. We believe a number of people were inadvertently Kissed when the Dementor control spells and artefacts were removed."

The ramifications of that statement sent both Rodney and Megan rushing off to vomit. Rufus and Percy exchanged long and careful looks. "I think we will need a time turner and a lot of _Obliviate_ charms to clean up this mess," Percy murmured thoughtfully, and Rufus smiled, it was good to work with a professional.

oo0oo

Severus carefully coaxed the memory strand out of his head and dropped it into the waiting Pensieve. The small audience shivered as he gave a convulsive shudder then stepped forward and looked up expectantly.

Albus sighed. "Each of you observe as much as possible and see what you can glean from this memory. Are you coming, Severus?"

"Why not?" the dark wizard muttered in disgust.

Shacklebolt, Tonks, McGonagall and Dumbledore gripped the lip and dived right in, Remus grasped Severus' arm and pulled him down to kiss him gently before they entered the memory together.

"Bloody hell!" Tonks muttered as she stared around in disgust. "Needs a good scrubbing out, this place does."

"Blood is a bitch to get out of flagstones, don't you know?" Minerva muttered, making the metamorphmagus snort in laughter.

"That's Aunty Bella for you."

"Tonks, Minerva, observation not stand-up comics, please," Remus reminded softly, making both women wince and blush a little.

Shacklebolt and Snape exchanged small grins over the werewolf's head but were careful not to draw attention to themselves. "Here we go," was Severus' only comment as the Snake Lord began to speak, a rambling harangue interspersed with torturing his followers at random it seemed. The watchers yelped when Severus caught a random snap of C_rucio,_ but the real Snape assured them it was not an aimed curse, just unfortunate.

"Why don't they avoid the blasts?" Tonks asked in puzzlement.

"Because their neighbours would cut them to ribbons for it," Severus said flatly. "These are blessings from the Lord, Tonks, you can't refuse his manna."

"I think they are all mad," Minerva muttered in bewilderment.

"Or so scared they will piss themselves if someone shouts 'boo'," Shacklebolt amended grimly.

"Now that might be a fun thing to try at the next meeting," Severus smirked and earned a whack on the arm from Remus.

"Oh, my poor Tom, what has he become?" Albus mourned as the Dark Lord wound down his speech and called for Severus.

"Mad as a hatter," Severus replied to the rhetorical question with a wry smile, watching himself approach the dais and fall to his knees. "That bloody granite gives my knees gyp!"

"Showing your age, lad," Shacklebolt teased absently, but was observing the process very closely. "He works at the Ministry," he remarked as the second Death Eater came forward and flung himself prone on the ground.

"I have his corpse in my pocket, I'll give it to you later," Severus murmured in reply as he again watched the scene, the others crowding around to view the plans too. He knew they gave him very dodgy glances and smirked when Albus bent to get a better look, pleased he had been able to hold the papers so still for so long before passing them over to Tom. "Sorry, that was the best I could do, what with one thing or another."

"Bloody Lucius!" Tonks hissed as the Malfoy Lord came forward. She curled her lip then gulped as the _Cruciatus Curse_ hit him hard and long. "Your Dark Dork is really hard on his followers, isn't he?" she asked brightly as the memory Lucius vomited on her shoes.

"Yes," Severus answered tersely as the memory faded and they returned to the office.

Remus grasped his shoulder commiseratingly then glanced around the group. "So, what have we got, people?"

"I think the plans are too big for a single building, really," Tonks said thoughtfully. "I mean, he mentioned sewers and tunnels, but there were a lot of pages and they were big pages so it was probably not all one place."

"I've seen something like it before," Shacklebolt muttered thoughtfully, helping himself to tea.

Remus paced slowly over the hearth rug, his head bent in thought before he clicked his fingers and said 'marauders' out of the blue. The rest of the office's inhabitants turned to stare at the small man. "Oh, sorry. It reminded me of the Marauder's Map, of when we were making it, the same sort of confused lines and…. Oh God, Headmaster, it's Hogwarts. Look, here." Parchment appeared in the werewolf's hand, a quill launching to his fist as he bent and drew swiftly, the lines sure and bold. "Look, this is the bay where the first-years dock, here is the pier and here are the stairs…."

Severus bent and drew a red line even as Remus finished his step representation. "This is an underground tunnel, I would say it is what connects Hogwarts to the Hogsmeade sewer system. This is the water purifying tunnel which brings water into the castle from the lake. Headmaster, do we have a set of plans for the castle?"

The plans materialised on the desk by Remus' hand, and Shacklebolt was quick to lay them out, Tonks spreading the rest out over the floor when the surface proved inadequate. Minerva and Albus sat back and watched fondly as the four younger people crawled over the floor, pointing and exclaiming, mapping secret passages and service tunnels with snorts of disgust or surprise. Even Severus put aside his dignity to do his part.

"Wish I'd known these were available when we were making the Marauder's Map; we thought it was so complete but it is nowhere near it," Remus commented in disgusted tones.

"No wonder that bloody basilisk was so able to get around undetected, this place is riddled with holes and tunnels," Severus muttered with a sour look at the whole set of parchments. "Merlin forefend a couple of Death Eaters get into this system of catacombs, we'd never wrinkle them out in a hundred years, it's like Swiss Cheese behind the walls."

"This is why he needs werewolves," Remus mused, tracing a finger along a vertical conduit that led right into the heart of the Gryffindor tower. "Werewolves are strong enough to make this climb without difficulty and without magic. We could get right into Harry's dorm without even being spotted until it was too late."

The four sat back on their heels and looked to the two elders sitting on the sofa sipping tea. Albus nodded, a deep sigh cutting through them all. "We need to do a survey of the castle and get wards, charms and hexes put into place as quickly as possible. It looks as if Hogwarts will be the scene of the final battle on this evidence. What do you feel, Severus?"

The Potions Master sat very still, his chin on his chest for a long while before he raised his head. "Three times he was denied, three thorns in his flesh, three reasons to hate and despise this place, three spurs to force him into action, no matter how foolish we more sane outsiders might find it. He's looking for auguries and signs to tell him when the time might be right so the defensibility or lack thereof would not stop him giving it his best efforts. Lucius told me the Death Eaters had been divided up into cells like a Muggle spy organisation, so I fear my information will not be complete, but I will certainly do my best to find out what I can as always. Hopefully we will have a little warning before the final push. On the other hand, we do have a very fine body of almost trained Aurors at this school, and I would suggest drafting them into helping put up the wards and charms would be a very good idea. Ask Moody to fill you in, Headmaster, they are really very good."

"Careful, Severus, you nearly sounded like you approved," Kingsley teased quietly and was rewarded by a patented Potions Master sneer which made Tonks giggle.


	38. Preparing the Way

**Chapter 37** – _Preparing the Way_

It was hard to cast Muggle repellent charms on water, especially such a turbulent body of water as the Norwegian Trench, but the charms and warnings around the splinter of black rock had held strong and steady for time immemorial. On satellite maps and Muggle charts it appeared as an up-welling of volcanic remains just under the surface of the water, deadly to shipping but totally uninteresting to anyone, including scientists and adventurers. In actuality, the pinnacle of rock rose more than fifty feet above the surface of the ocean on a semi-calm day, sheer, glass-like sides repelling anyone who made it this far unless they knew where the entrance to the inner catacombs was. Roughly oval in shape, the pointed end of the island was down-stepped but just as rugged, giving the island an almost constructed aspect at first glance, if the perpetual fog bank thinned enough to see it. One could almost expect seabirds to take advantage of such a secluded fortress with its tumble of boulders and unassailable protection, but even they shunned that haunted place.

Their first glimpse was through a bank of low-lying fog as the sturdy wizarding craft chugged its way through the pounding waves, the master knowing exactly where to aim the blunt, tough nose as visibility was down to approximately ten feet. Carefully seated in the wheelhouse behind a layer of toughened glass, Percy let out a squeak of fright as fangs of razor sharp rock suddenly leaped out of the fog and snapped down on the fragile craft. The skipper hid his contempt for the Ministry wimp as he gave the wheel a deft flick and the craft slid between the guarding rock teeth and into the relatively calm waters of the internal cave.

"Azkaban," he announced laconically, throttling back the engines and expertly swinging the small boat to take the gentle buffet of the quayside on the bumpers the crew had deployed handily.

A swaying gangplank was run out and secured, and Percy pulled his tattered dignity around himself as he staggered and stumbled his way over to the rail. The boat lurched with malicious intent as he went to step up onto the plank and he sprawled his length on the sodden wood, only the Master's quick grab at the back of his robes stopping him spilling over into the icy black waters of the sea.

Gasping and panting, Percy made it ashore and was almost tempted to kiss the black volcanic rock that conspicuously _didn't_ move under his feet. It had been a hell of a crossing, the raging storm that came down from the Arctic circle had caught them about half way to the island, and they had spent a wretched three days huddling under hatches while the Master fought the ocean and the icebergs in a death defying dance that had finally ended when a ragged patch of blue had nosed through the threatening cloud cover yesterday evening.

All the seasickness potions they had consumed were like water in the face of the storm's wild fury. Of the three secretaries Percy had brought, one was suffering a concussion caused when a particularly bad lurch of the ship had tossed her out of her bunk and she landed on her skull. The second casualty came when the only male secretary had tried to rush to her aid but had been flung down on the rebound and broke his leg. Julia Danvers, the youngest and least experienced of the three followed her Minister ashore, unashamedly crawling on her hands and knees across the slippery, icy planks.

The wizard who met them was as pale as the grave, a continuous series of tremors running though his body as he tried to hold his hand steady enough to be shaken. He kept glancing around, starting wildly at the slightest noise and once even spun on his toes to cast a rather insubstantial Patronus at a shadow on the wall.

"Dementors, they're just coming into breeding season," he remarked choppily when Percy asked for an explanation of his nerves. "Give it a week and they'll all leave for the breeding grounds down at the south end. Until then we just have to keep on our toes unless we are in the shielded quarters."

Before Percy could comment, their bags were hurled ashore and the boat's motors roared into life. The small craft spun in its own length and began to buck the swell as it made its escape with all speed possible. "Welcome to hell," the administrator said in grim satisfaction.

oo0oo

The water was as smooth as glass, the light entering from the arch that gave access to the lake adding a silvery sheen to the mirror-like surface. The pier, extending out into the covered bay, was perfectly reflected as were the small boats anchored around its length. The soft splash of a fish rising to take a small insect sent perfect rings across the surface, shattering the sunlight into shards that lanced their eyes.

"It's really beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione mused, watching the ripples cause small waves to lap at her toes.

"It is," Draco agreed, his left arm over her shoulder, his right cradling their son on his hip. "If it was a bit warmer, I might even suggest a paddle but as it is…." He glanced down at her far-away expression and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Here, take the next generation while I do a surveillance charm."

Grinning, Hermione took their son and blew a raspberry on his stomach, making him giggle wildly and frog kick with more energy than a child should have. Draco watched the two of them laughing at each other, a fierce twist of protectiveness swelling his throat. He wondered if it was normal to feel so much love for such a small thing, if his parents ever felt this way about him. Hermione caught his expression over the head of their son and smiled gently at her husband, holding out her hand. The invitation was too good to pass up, and he wrapped his arms around both of them in a three way hug.

A slight cough brought both adults around, wands leaping to hands. Harry held his hands up in surrender, a small smile playing across his lips as his godson chortled and blew bubbles at him. Ignoring the wands, he leaned forward and chucked the boy under the chin making him squeal. "Are your mum and dad playing hookey?" he asked cheerfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes while Draco merely huffed, his wand sliding away unobtrusively. "We are not playing, er, 'hookey', we are conducting a magical survey of the bay for signs of forced entry and with an eye to placing intruder alerts and warding walls," he said loftily, watching the saviour of the wizarding world use a corner of his robe sleeve to blot his son's drool from his chin. "We do have handkerchiefs for that, Potter," he added with a distinct moue of disgust.

Harry grinned. "He's just damp, not snotty," he said cheerfully. "Come on, let's get these wall charms up or we're going to be here all day."

There had been a lot of debate back and forward about where the protection wards had to go, what sort of wards would serve the school best and who was going to cast them. The Aurors and the Ministry wanted to be solely in charge of the planning and execution of the protection to Hogwarts while the headmaster and headmistress were adamant that the staff and students of the school would be involved in the endeavour. In the end Moody had proposed that Professor Flitwick should be in charge of the design team and that his Auror training class should be included in the execution team. Members of the Order were pressed into service to both design and execute the defences, once they were ready. No one person knew what charms were being used and where all the wards were being erected for security sake.

While Harry wandered to the end of the pier, Hermione summoned Winky to care for Lysander. The small house-elf had proved to be a very good nursemaid once they got her to agree to help out, at a wage, of course; Hermione had insisted on that, over-ruling Draco much to everyone's amusement. The house elf was an indulgent nanny but always ready to protect the small boy who seemed to love her dearly. Draco watched as his son flung his chubby arms around the elf's neck and dropped slobbery kisses on her cheek, tugging her ears and cooing happily. "Is little Master being good?" she whispered in his ear, just loud enough for Draco to hear and Hermione - who had followed Harry - not to hear. It was one area where the young couple had agreed to disagree as their views on the house-elf situation were pretty much irreconcilable. Smirking, Draco followed the duo out over the water.

"…across to there and down to there, I should think," Harry was saying as Draco approached.

"But, Harry, that leaves the water unprotected, what if something just swims underwater?" Hermione asked nervously.

"It's only four feet deep in the middle," Harry protested then sighed. "Yeah, okay, I never thought of that, alright?" he muttered mutinously, ignoring Draco as he sniggered. "Will the spell work underwater?"

"With a small correction," Draco assured him. "We had better mention this to the teams who are doing the sewers and the water pipes. Magic travels just as well under water as it does above; ask the mer-people if you don't believe me."

Harry sighed and gestured agreement as Hermione began the first of the anchor points for the curtain of protection they were erecting.

oo0oo

The shielded quarters were reasonably comfortable, Percy decided once he had had a good sleep and a hot meal. The ravages of the voyage could be set aside and buried as he and his remaining secretary, Miss Danvers, set up their temporary office in the administration section of the prison. There were ten warders in all, some even more villainous than the people they were meant to be guarding, each one as twitchy and as nervous as the warden.

Percy's primary objective was to deal with those people who were represented by the blue files, to sort and classify them, then with a bit of luck, ship as many out as possible. To that end, he carefully stacked his folders in alphabetical order and asked that the first person, 'Aarons, Sam', be brought into his office. The warden looked at him as if he was insane then waved a hand to one of his minions who disappeared for a good half hour before returning with a filthy, emaciated, shambling wreck of a creature. Percy held a fold of his robes over his nose as he surveyed the verminous hulk before him.

"What is that?" he demanded in disgust. "What is wrong with him?"

Sam Aarons was recorded as an under secretary to a Junior Minister in the Scottish branch of the Ministry. He was fifty years old and the father of three, according to his file. This creature looked older than Merlin and shambled as he walked, his eyes dead and empty of all thought.

The guard pulled his head back by the long matted hair and studied his face carefully. "Ain't been Kissed, but he has been a good source of nourishment, all eaten out, I think," the man muttered uneasily as Percy's mouth dropped open in shock and dawning horror.

"We had no way of controlling the Dementors once You-Know-Who had taken away the majority." The warden burst into a hurried and self-justifying speech. "It was all we could do to try and keep the older, stronger ones down in the depths where the worst of the prisoners were housed, but they wanted the sweet, fresh memories of those who were not steeped in evil so they just invaded whenever they could. We've all taken injury from the bastards until we just couldn't hold them most of the time…."

Percy swallowed uneasily, glancing at the stacked folders. "Perhaps I will have to go down and inspect the cells then," he muttered. "Perhaps we are going to need a new classification system for the prisoners."

Azkaban was arranged in twelve tiers and levels, penetrating down into the depths of the rock pinnacle. Percy speculated that volcanic activity deep in the earth's crust heated the rock and allowed the average temperature of the caverns to remain at a level that allowed life. Oh, it was cold and grim, no warmer than sixty degrees and no colder than forty, not comfortable or deadly, just liveable. No light penetrated the depths, only the colonies of fungi glowed a sickly green and a few scattered spell globes added a distinct leprous light to the scene. If Percy Weasley had ever heard of Dante's Inferno, perhaps he would have thought the author had seen the depths of Azkaban even though he was just a Muggle.

Rows of cells led off a common space, the ramps that led deeper covered with grating to stop prisoners leaving the level they were assigned. However, they were no deterrent to the Dementors who came and went at will. The upper levels, in a final irony, were perhaps worse than the lower, with greater fluctuations of temperature and more dampness to be endured. As Percy followed the cordon of guards down the ramp he kept his wand at the ready and his head never stopped swivelling as he was engulfed by rock. Even the two middle tiers designated laundry and kitchens were completely disgusting. No wonder Azkaban was known as the pit of the damned.

Later that evening, his head thrust into the communications fire, Percy vented his rage at his superior, forgetting both position and prudence in his ire. Scrimgeour listened first in fury then later in disgust as the young Ministerial representative gave him a graphic description of a complete disaster. If this lot came out the press would crucify him, and they really didn't need that sort of publicity on the eve of a war.

"What can be done to rescue the situation?" Rufus asked when Percy finally ran down. There was a distinct pause as Weasley's mind changed gears and he began to think rather than emote. Seizing the moment, Scrimgeour added, "Use whatever resources you need or want and whatever measures you deem necessary but fix this problem and make sure the Ministry emerges from this crisis looking good. If we don't…."

"Completely free hand? Full Ministry backing, any resources I need?" Percy reiterated and received an affirmative nod on each point. "Very well, send me two Unspeakables, ten house-elves and a dozen Dementor repelling shields and give me a week."

oo0oo

The 29th February only came around every four years and was magically significant in that it was a time out of time. When the biggest recorded snowfall of the decade hit, no one was really surprised, it had been a terribly hard winter. When the heavy, forbidding snow clouds turned a dead black at midday and every artificial light had to be turned on in both the Muggle and the wizarding world, it was not a real surprise.

When the whole of the British Isles shuddered and jumped under the force of an earthquake, that was a surprise, a shock, an exercise in terror for most people. The accompanying snow blizzard, thunderstorm and lightening bolts were equally shocking, leaping from cloudbank to cloud bank, lighting the sky from within, tearing the cloud cover apart to let a blazoning hell of maelstrom winds and lancing ice slash into the earth. Muggle houses and cars were destroyed, trees uprooted and blown around like twigs, the seas pounding the coast so hard that whole fields and villages disappeared under the ocean's wrath.

The wizarding world cringed as bolts of pure wild magic struck wizarding centres of power, slashing through wards and shields to slam into protected places with impunity. The Muggles' efforts to restore Stonehenge were blasted to gravel and Styrofoam balls by the lightening bolt that struck the centre of the inner circle. The energy was absorbed and stored by the stones, empowering them and bringing them alive. The bloodthirsty spirits who had guarded the stones at the Druids' behest stirred and licked their chops for the first time in a millennium.

Damaged and crippled, Diagon Alley burst apart as a bolt slammed through the protections that covered it from Muggle sight and shot the cobbles across the streets like canon balls. Most of the storefronts were riddled with holes from a previous battle and collapsed under the new and unstoppable onslaught. Glass shattered, sending fragments and slivers dancing over the torn-up streets, hacking through anything that moved before the fury of the magic dissipated and was gone to ground, renewing and revitalising the wizarding centre despite the destruction it caused.

Hogwarts trembled as bolt after bolt slammed into the towers, hitting the lightning rods and running up and down the huge granite blocks like playful fireflies. The magic discovered that it was no longer free, now channelled down to the castle's core, energising and empowering the complex accumulators the four Founders had brought into being so long before. Hogwarts' complex and interlocking wards were renewed and refreshed, an unforeseen and serendipitous consequence of the storm that hit on the day out of time. Inside the old fortress, in the headmaster's office three of the fantastic silver wire structures began to hum and chime, one spinning on the spot like a demented top. Albus and Minerva glanced at each other then turned to study the pieces, their expressions growing grim. Someone was playing with the deepest forces of magic and nature, not entirely indiscriminately but certainly more intimately than was wise. They shuddered as it was not hard to decide which of the suitably powerful wizards would be the culprit.

"The attacks will start in earnest soon," Albus remarked sadly, burying his nose in his teacup.

"Can we do nothing to stop him?" Minerva demanded, unsettled by the headmaster's seeming to bow to fate.

"We can win," Albus said simply, unarguably and Minerva sighed.

On the old Riddle estate near Little Hangleton, the eye of the storm gave a false sense of serenity as the tall, pale, snake-like man chanted and cast runes, twenty one men and nine women sacrificed on the altar that he had erected for the very purpose of calling up the storm. He sent the hapless Muggles' life force to the four Wards, north, south, east and west. Their dying breath was released on the wind, their blood spilled to mingle with the water drawn from the earth. Their pulverised bones were mixed with the bones of the earth while he consigned their flesh to the fire. Giving offerings to the four Elementals and calling down the four major wards, he asked for the strength of the earth and those who dwelt below to aid him in his coming fight against the powers of those who fought against him. He asked that the elements lend themselves to the creation and sustaining of the undead fighters in his cause, his newly created and prepared army of _Inferi_ that would sweep before him and lay open the path to true victory for all!

Groaning and tearing deep in the earth sent tremors through the rocks and across the whole surface of the earth, the Elementals fighting against he who disturbed their sleep. The magic of the souls that had been sacrificed, the power of the Words the Snake God used to command and the taste of the blood of innocents swayed some measure of the attention, but still more was needed if the army was to rise and perform. Uneasiness flowed through the Death Eaters as their Lord and Master bared his forearm and carefully let four of his own precious blood drops strike the altar, one on each rune for each element. For one unearthly moment time seemed to stand still then the sky caved in, the earth erupted and geysers of molten rock rose all around the alter before they disappeared back into the earth. Lord Voldemort had raised the Devil, and now the devil was to pay.

The wailing of a thousand souls echoed, lost in the howl of the wind and the crash of the thunder as the storm of storms moved to a crescendo then died, the power snatched back and harnessed for the battle to come.

oo0oo

The headmaster rose and signalled for silence which was a short time coming. "Students, and teachers, we are heading for grim times, and the school needs to take all the precautions it can. The storm yesterday was not natural as most of the wizarding world realised. It destroyed much in its fury, but it also gave much back to our world, releasing new and vital magic for our continued use. Hogwarts accepted the bounty and the power has been stored to offset the coming trial by fire. The grounds have been charmed, warded and are being patrolled by Aurors to protect you all day and every day from now on. If intelligence changes and there is a hint of an attack against the school, then we will of course increase the levels of security. If the school is attacked, then a warning klaxon will sound throughout the building and all students from fifth year and younger will immediately report to their common rooms. If, by some remote chance, the school itself is breached then you will all follow the evacuation plans your Heads of House will be distributing this evening. You will, under no circumstances, even if you have siblings or family in a different house, make a single mention of the plan your Head of House gives you. I am sorry if this seems a harsh and desperate measure, but if the situation is desperate enough to warrant the evacuation of Hogwarts, then it is very desperate indeed. Are we all understood? Very well. Fifth-year prefects, take your fifth-year and younger pupils to their houses. Those of you in sixth and seventh year please remain seated."

As the younger children filed out and the Heads of House rose to accompany them, the headmaster signalled that the older ones should move forward so that they could hear properly. There was enough speculation to make the movement noisy, the teachers leaving the head table and joining the students in the body of the hall as the headmaster took an informal seat on the edge of the Ravenclaw table. "Grim times, ladies and gentlemen, grim times and grim needs. I must ask you all to consider my next words very carefully before you make any further decisions. I am going to ask that you people join in the defence of the school as fully fledged warriors."

"Wonderful, does that include the junior Death Eaters," a ragged voice asked from the rear of the group. There were snarls of agreement and dissension in the ranks.

"Enough! I realise some of you have a philosophical difference of opinion to myself and to others in your class. To put it in the vernacular, some of you are junior Death Eaters, but I will name no names. What I ask is that, no matter what your philosophy, you will refrain from any action until the juniors of your House are safely away. Anyone in this group is a legitimate target… Enough! But anyone younger would be a lamb to the slaughter, and therefore only a coward would destroy such poor targets."

"On the other side of the coin, if the Junior Death Eaters agree to this, although, as the headmaster said, we don't need any confirmation at this time, they will be allowed to leave the group unmolested and rally at a point they choose without hindrance from the rest of us," Harry said conversationally, the rest of the teachers and the students breaking out into loud denials. "Shut up! Even the bloody Muggles allow for this exchange of courtesies at the declaration of war, are we any less than them?"

The rumbling subsided into thoughtful silence. "Thank you, Harry. If this series of 'courtesies' is agreeable to you, please send a parchment to my office with your written agreement and use any charm or ink potion you like to disguise your identity, as long as you all are agreeable to the terms. However, and let me make this perfectly clear to both sides of the coming conflict, if anyone abrogates the agreement in any way, there will be Hell to pay, and I do not mean a lost of house points." For a single shining moment the true strength of the headmaster shone from his eyes and even those without a guilty conscience fell back in terror from that power. "Very well, with that out of the way, I estimate we have perhaps ten Juniors here, perhaps twelve…."

"There are more Slytherins than that," the same terse, angry voice called out harshly.

The Slytherins immediately banded together, but it was Harry that snarled the reply. "Get over yourself! Just because a person is Slytherin doesn't mean they are automatically Dark, surely the revelations of the past few years have shown you all that? One of the greatest betrayers of our times was a bloody Gryffindor. One of the most notorious torturers was a Ravenclaw. Don't you get it yet? House colours are not worth a pinch of pus in the real world, they are just a convenient way to make sure we have four teams to compete in Quidditch, for Merlin's sake!"

"Oh, I don't know, Potter, there are probably very good fashion reasons too. I can't say I'd suit red, nor would you suit yellow, and I know Goyle would look ghastly in blue." The amused drawl Malfoy used made a spurt of laughter wash through the group, defusing the situation nicely. "Oh, and Aunt Bella was a Slytherin, actually."

"Yes, but she is mad, so I don't think that counts and I actually meant Percival Trench," Harry quipped and Malfoy conceded the point with a graceful fencer's gesture. "My point is, House plays little part in philosophy, so get over that sort of fuzzy thinking. Now, listen to the headmaster."

"Thank you, Harry. I am going to assign you each a battle group and a post. If the school grounds are invaded, I want you each to make your way to the area and prepare to defend that target. If someone does not turn up, then I want one or two of the reserve pool I will also create to make their way to that group to bring it up to strength. Professor Moody will be holding extra classes two nights a week to help you improve your defensive and protection spells. Oh, one more thing, people, don't pester the juniors about where they are going if they have to leave. There are charms and protections on the evacuation plans to make it impossible for the children to tell anyone, and they really have no idea until the spells are completed."


	39. The Best Defence

**Chapter 38** – _The Best Defence_

Staring blindly at the stacks of folders that lined his temporary office, Percy let out a huge sigh and scrubbed at his face wearily. Of the fifty people he had so innocently come to liberate only a week ago, twelve had been unlawfully Kissed and seven were in no fit state to be returned to wizarding society, all the life drained out of them completely. The rest would be better served with a long rest and treatment in St Mungo's special ward for the various traumas and neurosis their stay in Azkaban had instilled in them.

The other prisoners had suffered too, many of them Kissed or drained, all of them insane to some extent or another. Only the bloody convicted Death Eaters had been spared to the greater extent, protected by being cast deep down on the twelfth level of Azkaban as if that was the worst thing possible. How had one of the guards put it, '_being entombed alive in living rock_', the blind idiot! The Dementors only voluntarily went down as far as the sixth level, which was why Percy had left the seventh level as a laundry and the eighth level as a kitchen, reserving the lower four levels for less important criminals and remand people. Oh, it had taken some fancy footwork, but he had pulled all the Death Eaters out of 'L' level and remodelled their cells, adding toilets and a shower block, a common room and a small reading room before transferring the prisoners that were still alive enough to register from the 'A' level down to their new accommodation on 'L' level. It was warm, a constant twenty-two degrees Celsius, and the lighting charms made it as bright as day, dimming to waning moonlight at night.

The Death Eaters had protested vigorously at being moved out of their cosy cells and thrust into cells containing those who had been Kissed. The usual wizarding horror of the living dead made them cringe or attack, depending on the nature of the prisoner, but they all served their purpose. When the hungry Dementors came they found fresh sources of nourishment and the convicts learned a new level of terror as the gliding, icy creatures invaded their cells and took what they wanted of the condemned. Some thought to toss their pre-Kissed cellmates into the path of the Dementors, but the creatures were neither corporeal nor to be denied their sustenance. It was all very ironic and not a little daunting as some of the Death Eaters joined the ranks of the unofficially Kissed.

Julia Danvers brought her boss a cup of tea and placed it quietly on his desk. She had been horrified at the carnage they had found in the prison and admired the older man's abilities to adapt and organise under such trying conditions. She realised they had a public relations disaster on their hands and wondered how any of them were going to come out of this situation with their jobs, never mind their reputations untarnished.

"Oh, Julia, thank you," Percy muttered, flashing the young woman a vague smile as he bent to stare down at the mugshot staring back at him from the folder on his desk. The boy, barely old enough to shave blinked back then bit his lip to stop the tears that threatened to fall. He was barely seventeen when he had been taken into custody, a child who had a big mouth, a large fortune and an aunt who had been living on the proceeds while he was too young to protest. He had been sent to Azkaban on the word of his aunt who declared he was a danger to society with his Death Eater sentiments and if he did join them he would be taking a lot of money to the cause. Now he was a neo-corpse in cell three, A-level, Kissed by a Dementor perhaps six months before. It was so unfair, and so…. "Damn it all, this is a right royal pig's breakfast, this is," he commented grimly.

"Pity the Death Eaters couldn't just attack the prison and…" She trailed off as Percy slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at her with a dropped jaw.

"Merlin's Arse! That's it! Brilliant. If we had an attack by the Death Eaters, come to break out their compatriots, bringing the rogue Dementors with them to take out as many people as they could, it would be perfect! Of course, we all fought back furiously and very few actually escaped, but alas, quite a few casualties, particularly the civilians. Merlin's beard! We'd have to do some very fancy memory charms on those who survived the attack, remove the past few months and replace them with well crafted delusions, but that could work, it really could! Superb! You know what they say, the best defence is a good offence, and this is the perfect melding of both."

oo0oo

"Severus, my dear boy, why did you not tell me?"

Severus stopped the shudder stillborn and turned carefully to face the Dark Lord keeping his expression a baffled neutrality. "My Lord, I…." The scream was jerked out of him involuntarily, so unexpected was the attack, here in the Malfoy family sitting room. Narcissa, peering around the Dark Lord almost smiled to see her most treasured enemy brought so low, again.

As the Cruciatus curse lifted, Severus managed to get his knees under him but could not lift his face from the Persian carpet covering the mahogany boards. "I have always told you all I have to tell," he managed to say between gritted teeth, the taste of blood in his mouth helping to revive his wits, even if it was his own blood.

"Potter has a girlfriend!"

The Potions Master knew he looked completely gormless as he managed to stare up at the Dark Lord, then a very inappropriate giggle left his mouth. He almost said 'jealous?' but managed to keep that behind his teeth as he snapped his jaw shut and sneered. "The amorous adventures of that idiotic Gryffindork are not something I find particularly riveting," he muttered into the rug in disgust then managed to raise his head enough to look his Lord in the eye once again. "My Lord, I believe I told you some five months ago that he and the Weasley girl were close."

"Not the Weasley, the Lovegood girl," Lord Voldemort snapped, and Severus jerked as another Cruciatus curse blasted his nerve ends.

By the time it ceased, Severus was panting hard, wondering where the hell the Lord got such dodgy information. "My Lord, he was snogging the Weasley girl when I left yesterday afternoon, if he has changed alliance then it is a very recent development and as I have been here for the last twenty-four hours, then I am afraid I can neither confirm nor deny that fact."

Lord Voldemort snorted and turned away, the mutter of _Crucio_ making Severus flinch before he realised he was not being hit. Narcissa crumpled onto the floor, a high pitched squeal reverberating around the room as she writhed. Severus managed to make it to his knees while the Lord's attention was thus distracted and gulp down a fortifying potion before he was again subjected to the Lord's scrutiny.

"Gossip, gossip! Why am I surrounded by fools and gossips! I ask for useable information, I want certain things accomplished and all I get is a disaster on my hands!" A window blew out under the force of the Dark Lord's anger, chips of stone and wood flying in a whirlwind of backlash to strike at them all. This was a full blown tantrum, and both Severus and Narcissa ducked behind a heavy sofa, thankful that the Manor's furnishings were so well built.

"What set him off?" Severus muttered, keeping his head down.

"He was feeling a bit futile and at a loose end after his Ritual last month so I thought the latest gossip would cheer him up. It was in Witch Weekly, how was I to know how he would react?" Narcissa wailed quietly then winced as half the ceiling moulding fell down around them.

Severus shook his head slowly. This was ridiculous! Perhaps…. "My Lord, I do have an idea I thought you might appreciate," he called over the storm of magic.

"What is it, Ssseverusss?"

"I was wondering if it would be of any use to see if we can liberate the Death Eaters incarcerated in Azkaban, even though they are not of any particular importance to the cause, a 'just because I can' type of raid, playful, almost." The tall Potions Master prepared to duck and cover if his suggestion met with the wrong type of reaction, but the Lord stopped his raging, seeming to be intrigued with the suggestion and Narcissa let out a silent, thankful sigh.

"Your words have merit, my Severus. I will think about it!" There was silence then the feeling of absence.

Lifting their heads slowly, Severus and Narcissa turned and collapsed onto the floor, propping their backs against the sofa that sheltered them. He had gone, and they both sighed in relief. "You know, Narcissa, I am too old for this game, really I am," Severus remarked softly without opening his eyes.

"Thank Merlin your brain hasn't lost any of its youthful agility," she commented, not moving either. "Why Azkaban?"

"Why not? You said yourself, he needs an outlet for his fidgets and Azkaban is far from here, a whole new target. He has attacked and all but destroyed the Ministry; he has repeatedly attacked St Mungo's and reduced it to a half activity clinic. The Wizengamot has to hold its sessions in a warehouse rented from Muggles. Stonehenge has been invaded by Muggles trying to recreate the stones, which has rendered it pretty much useless. There are only four places of power left to finish off, Azkaban, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and of course Hogwarts. If he attacked Diagon Alley, the Aurors would swarm over us as they are like a stirred nest of hornets after the attack on the Wizengamot looking for something to sting. Hogsmeade, the people would simply withdraw into Hogwarts and if he attacks Hogwarts prematurely, then he will not succeed as quickly and as devastatingly as he hoped but would have to engage in a long and protracted siege situation. That was not ideal in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and would be even less likely to succeed in the late twentieth century. Of the four, I think Azkaban is the easiest target, even though it is hardest to get to, and a successful raid would increase our troop numbers as well as our morale. So, Azkaban would give him a neat target that would be a stunning victory and it would undermine the confidence of the Light even further."

Narcissa blinked then smirked at the dark man beside her. "Well, saying you are a chess player," she remarked, pushing herself to her feet and surveying the damage to the family living room with jaundiced eyes. "Much as I respect and revere my Lord, I do wish he wouldn't vent his temper on my home."

"Better than venting it on our bodies," Severus remarked quietly before he apparated.

oo0oo

The plans were laid; those who were to become 'casualties' of the 'Death Eater Raid' had been carefully selected and cleaned up, given a few good meals and generally reconditioned so that they did not look as if they had been mistreated so much. House-elves were pressed into the service of the casualties, handling the soulless hulks with care and ease, making them eat and keeping them clean. Those who were to survive the raid were also cleaned up and well fed, the Unspeakables taking each one and Obliviating them before adding a very specific series of memories over the last few months. The remaining Dementors were kept on their part of the island by the use of charms and shield spells, which Percy thought should have been installed in the first place, as soon as the main body of the Dementors had been freed.

Surveying the changes he had wrought and comparing them to his planned timetable, Percy sat back in grim satisfaction at a job well done. They should be able to announce the raid by Death Eaters next week and be very convincing. The Daily Prophet would stir up a storm of protest and patriotic hatred of Death Eaters and all would make the Ministry look very good, which was the whole point of the exercise. Julia Danvers looked up attentively as he rose and stretched, her smile indulgent. She was about to make comment on his dedication to the job as the lights went out and the prison guard on the lower stairs screamed.

"What in Merlin's name…" the young minister asked, poking his head out of his office only to duck back in shock as a group of eight black cloaked figures portkeyed into the space below.

"Spread out and find our people, kill anyone you don't recognise!" one of the intruders snapped, wand swinging in an arc. "They keep the 'horrid Death Eaters' in the lower vaults. Keep your Patronus ready as there are still a few Dementors around and the Lord will be bringing in a couple of tame ones, too. Let's go!"

An Unspeakable wandered out of the complex lower down to see what the noise was, six hexes throwing him off his feet into an almost unrecognisable heap against the wall. Even as he died another portkey bearing eight more bodies flashed into being. Percy goggled then remembered his mother's words, carefully closing the door behind him before slipping over to the balcony rail and staring down in horror. Dementors were gathering, the two prison guards stood no chance against the mixed attack force. One was already a bloody wreck on the floor, the other shambling mindlessly much to the gathered Death Eaters' amusement.

The crippled alarm system obviously partially disarmed, finally squarked out an ineffectual warning which made Percy wince. His slight movement drew the attentions of one of the Death Eaters, a curse blasting toward his position almost by reflex. Percy was lucky the wall took the brunt of the hex, the stone and door shattering into a thousand flying splinters. The young Minister went over backwards, his wand arm shattered to uselessness. A Dementor, drawn by his cry of pain, glided out of the gloom, a wave of creeping horror heralding its approach. Unable to do more than groan and try to focus his spinning senses, Percy knew he was dead until a glittering silver pony galloped over his head and exploded the approaching Dementor very handily.

Julia Danvers would never allow something like that to attack her boss, not while there was breath in her body! She scrambled forward and dragged Percy's half-conscious form further into the room, regardless of the splinters on the ground, then turned to fling a handful of floo powder into the fire, yelling for the Minister. Nothing happened and she almost cried in rage and fear until she remembered that Scrimgeour was not the Minister but the Head of the Aurory. Trying again she was rewarded by a very startled young Auror who was acting secretary for the older man.

"This is Azkaban, we are under attack by Death Eaters," she gasped, hoping the stupid child would stop gawping and do something constructive with his time.

It took a few seconds for the incredible news to register, then he was off, bellowing for assistance, and Julia slumped back onto her heels then scrambled back to Percy's side, lifting his head into her lap and carefully stroking his bright red hair away from his forehead; help would be here soon, she hoped.

oo0oo

Scrimgeour hadn't wanted to believe Fredrickson when he burst into his office, but he knew Weasley had not planned to announce the attack until next week. He immediately stuck his head into the Floo and was rewarded by a hex that flew past his temple and impacted on his office wall. He brought his wand up smartly and blasted the figure in the doorway of the shattered office, over the head of the girl who seemed to be defending her boss with very little help or cover. An impatient hand indicated that Fredrickson should sound the klaxon and alert the rest of the Aurors to the raid while he slipped ahead and helped the girl drag young Weasley into a relatively safe position behind his desk.

"I saw sixteen Death Eaters portkey in, but more may have arrived since then," Weasley managed to gasp. "They have brought more Dementors with them."

"Right." Scrimgeour nodded tersely as his forces began to jump out of the fireplace. It was not the most ideal beachhead to work from but it was all they had, and he quickly sent his people scrambling through the door and out into the body of the prison. A melee quickly developed on the floor of the main level, hexes splattering off shields and Patronuses scattering advancing Dementors. There were more than sixteen Death Eaters, that was evident, some ragged and dirty but most healthy and vicious as they fought the forces of the Aurory.

Someone raised their voice with _Sonorous_ and the Death Eaters were suddenly forming clusters that swirled away in a vortex of magic, the Aurors' following and tracking spells deflected handily, a wild and mocking laugh all that was left amid the carnage. The broken bodies of the wounded, both Auror and prisoner as well as a couple of Death Eaters were mute testimony to the severity and harshness of the short skirmish.

Shaking his head in disbelief and disgust, Scrimgeour made his way down to the floor and began assessing the casualties, assigning fit bodies to accompany the wounded back to St Mungo's. He flagged the dead with a deep sigh; they could wait for later processing. While his body dealt with his casualties, his mind screamed through the scenarios trying to decide how the Death Eaters had managed to circumvent the wards, where they had acquired portkeys and how they had worked out the coordinates in the first place. Azkaban was under what amounted to a Fidelius Charm as well as being unplottable.

"Dementors," a pain wracked voice said from behind him, and he spun on his toes, wand out defensively before he realised Weasley was there, leaning on his secretary and even paler than usual. "The Dementors led them here," Percy clarified seeing Rufus' incomprehensive look.

"Explain?"

"The Dementors are not subject to our charms and curses, or at least, not many. So, if one of them came here and collected some bits of rock to take back to You-Know-Who then he could make them into portkeys with no problem. We have to ward against portkeys as well as apparition from now on. I would also suggest we go back to using the Dementors as guards to reduce the power of the prisoners. At least that way we would have some control over the blasted things, instead of allowing them to randomly attack anyone they like, including the warders."

"Wish we'd thought of it earlier. Right! Looks like we bring your plan into action a little early and hope we can turn this incident to our own advantage. Are you fit for it?" the head of the Aurory asked, seeing the grimace of pain on his Junior Minister's face.

"If I have need of another hand, Miss Danvers here is more than capable of supplying it," he said without fanfare, the girl blushing vividly under his no-nonsense praise.

"Very well, let's announce it," Scrimgeour said decisively, his lion-like head rising to the challenge.

oo0oo

News of the disastrous raid on Azkaban hit the news stands that very night, banner headlines screaming the destruction for all to read. The most secure prison in the wizarding world had been violated, security spectacularly breached and the worst prisoners ever incarcerated had been freed to return to their master at full strength.

"_**Dementors: Friend or Foe?"**_

"_Over one hundred and fifty casualties, victims of both hexes and unauthorised Kissing by Dementors…"_

"_Valiant Aurors and staff overwhelmed by sheer numbers of invaders, most gaolers killed, visiting Junior Minister, son of war hero Minister Arthur Weasley, and aide badly hurt."_

"_Sixty convicted Death Eaters and a hundred suspected Death Eaters now fleeing to their Master's side in the biggest breakout in the history of the wizarding world."_

_Dementors are now back as guards in Azkaban to help stop any further possibilities of a mass break out in the future. "We must curb the prisoners' magic and ability to plot and plan in the future," Junior Minister Weasley told our reporter during an interview from his hospital bed._

_Wizengamot holds emergency sessions all night. Consultation with Heads of Departments puts the wizarding world on a war footing. Questions were asked in the session regarding the security of Hogwarts and the likelihood of a Death Eater victory in the near future. Minister Constantine Clearwater refutes the possibility saying the wizarding world has not yet begun to fight!_

_Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, told our special correspondent that 'now is the time that all brave witches and wizards must come to the aid of their free society or be forever cast down into the darkness of tyranny under the unrelenting heel of the murderous Death Eaters and their soulless, merciless leader the self-styled Lord Voldemort. We will fight them on the streets; we will fight them in the air and on the playing fields of Hogwarts until they are wiped from the face of our fair land forever.'_

Harry Potter, staring at the article with a spoon full of porridge balanced mid air, was utterly horrified and bore the teasing of his friends with something like stoicism until Seamus laughingly accused him of plagiarism, then the porridge was launched across the table in the first salvo of the war.


	40. Stepping up the Pressure

**Chapter 39** – _Stepping up the Pressure_

Harry screamed, his back arching high off the bed as the scar on his head grew blood blisters which burst and sent thick, coagulated blood clumping down his face. Dean and Seamus came awake with their wands drawn, Neville grunted in his sleep, and Ron was there at Harry's side even before the first scream stopped echoing. He managed to catch his smaller friend as Harry convulsed and all but threw himself off the bed as he writhed in agony.

"Get Dumbledore," Ron commanded tersely as he struggled to hold Harry. Seamus grunted acknowledgement as he ran while Dean lent his strength to help Ron stop Harry hurting himself in his fit.

oo0oo

"My faithful few, holders of my trust, bearers of my Mark, welcome to my court," Lord Voldemort said in rolling tones only faintly underlined with a hissing mockery. "Tonight we welcome our brothers from overseas and those we have freed from durance vile. Come, come forward and allow my gaze to rest upon your faces, allow the sight to balm my soul and strengthen the bond between us."

There was a shuffling in the crowd that thronged the decaying grandeur of the Riddle mansion, eddies forming as certain people moved jerkily through the crowd, often not of their own volition. Those who had been newly freed from Azkaban and had professed a wish to join Lord Voldemort, those who had come from pure-blood families and recently come of age, those who had come over from Europe and even as far away as Africa and America, all came to kneel before the strongest Dark Lord since the rise and fall of Grindelwald.

Eyeing the gathering, Lord Voldemort hid fine contempt behind a mask of haughty superiority. In earlier times he had made his newly marked lieutenants prove their value with a murder of his own choice. Some had failed, some had succeeded spectacularly, but each had been tied to him with chains of blood, guilt and terror. Those days had been a luxury, the momentum of his ascent slow but steady as he tried to persuade the majority of the wizarding world to his side with honeyed words and clever politics. Well, that time of leniency was no more! He now realised that the wizarding world was populated by complacent fools and deceitful conniving liars with all the back bone and courage of jellyfish.

Oh, a few were worthy enemies, the damned prolific Weasleys, it being all that accursed Molly Prewitt's fault, although they were slowly being crushed under the weight of his ire. Moody and his little gang of thugs at the Ministry were somewhat of a pain in his side, but mostly they were just grist for his mill; his might would crush out all resistance as he rose to the ultimate power. Even if the resurrection of Albus Dumbledore was proved to be true, the resistance offered by the Order of the Burning Chickens had been negated by the enmity of their very own Ministry and all but sidelined in the real game of control. It was completely hilarious that they put their faith in a child with a scar who had been subverted and undermined from the very first day; by his Muggle relatives, then Dumbledore's complete mishandling of the brat and finally by Severus' natural and vitriolic, on-going antagonism. Oh, he had made some sort of showing at Lord Voldemort's own resurrection, but that little loophole would be taken care of.

The Ministry was broken and scattered, surviving on the charity of Muggles, an appalling thought; Diagon Alley was all but boarded up and deserted, most of the buildings and businesses destroyed. Azkaban was a farce, a proving ground for his latest batch of recruits and no longer a place of power for the control of wizarding criminals. Stonehenge… ah, Stonehenge was completely destroyed by the Muggle attempts to 'recreate' it in their bungling, pre-packed way. Their constant trampling over the consecrated ground, with their squalling brats, half-baked ceremonies and picnic lunches, had driven the protection left by the Druids deep underground where it was almost inaccessible except at a very few rare moments during the sun-year. Even the influx of magic his February working had engendered was not enough to heal the damage the magical centres of Britain had suffered, and it was his for the taking, as per plan.

Only Hogwarts remained as a power centre in the wizarding world, a fortress of Light in the darkness and at last on very shaky ground. The wards had been attuned to Albus Dumbledore and his death had been a blow like never before. Minerva McGonagall was a powerful witch, that he did not dispute, but she was not half as powerful as Dumbledore, not even as strong as Severus when all was said and done.

He paused for a moment in his gloating and examined the conundrum that was Severus Snape, twisting and prodding at the impressions and intelligences he had gleaned of his ex-lover over the last few months. Severus was a double-edged sword, always had been, and now Tom Riddle wondered if he was an assassin's dagger poised in the shadows, ready to strike at an unguarded moment. Surely not, after all, the boy had saved his life on a few memorable occasions and had always obeyed him… mostly obeyed him…. Never bowed to his dominion, only bowed to his person when it suited, Tom thought slowly and grimly, then shelved the thought to be dealt with later. He was unreliable and would be made to suffer!

To take Hogwarts he needed troops, willing bodies to be sacrificed as canon fodder to break down the defences and thus allow him to infest the school in the shortest time possible. Oh, he had an indestructible army of _Inferi_ ready to throw at the fortress, thanks to his control of the Elements, but alas, _Inferi_ were unthinking and were simply the battering rams of the magical army. Toss them at an obstacle, and they would not stop until it was either destroyed, or they were. However, if thought and strategy were required then living beings were necessary to guide the _Inferi_ efforts.

The Vampire Families and the werewolf packs would have been perfectly suited to the role; all but a few minor Houses proved to be unusually stubborn in coming to his banner, damn them. He blamed a few die-hard snobs in the Vampire Families who would not even listen to an 'outsider' - even if he did speak flawless High Tongue - for turning the Vampire majority away. Of course Jonathon McCarthy and Remus Lupin were at the root of the majority of the werewolf refusals to cooperate, but they would be dealt with in the new order. They would all suffer the total might of his ire in the fullness of time. Already his European allies had attacked and destroyed one of the fiercest werewolf packs, wiping out the main core of the werewolf resistance, in a very successful surprise raid.

The rest of the wizarding world was so cowed by the series of attacks his people had perpetrated, they would not raise a hand to help the school, even if their children were in mortal peril. He gloated silently as he continued to survey the gathering, his foreign-born, especially imported and absolutely disposable army of European and African wizards, all ready to help with the 'cause' and glorify the pure-blood ideals of strength and dominion over the Muggles of the world, for a cut of the 'spoils'. They had no ties with Hogwarts and no ties to the children they would be disposing of, therefore there would be no messy and inconvenient crisis of conscience when the school fell.

The recruits knelt submissively at his feet, each head bowed before him, a sea of necks to be walked upon with impunity. At a muttered word, each obediently bared his left arm, and Lord Voldemort pulled out his wand to commence the first massed marking of over two hundred willing and warm bodies who would give up their freedom of will to take part in the reaving and rapine of the most magical school in the world; it was ironic, thrilling and empowering.

Morsmordre was powerful spell, burning into the flesh and psyche of a wizard or witch, binding his magic and branding it, siphoning off a certain percentage and feeding it to the new master of their soul. The rush of power made Lord Voldemort glow an eerie pale grey as he was reenergised and revitalised with the flood of new vigour. Many of the newly branded cried out in agony, not a few fainting with the pain of binding. One or two suddenly wondered what in Merlin's name they had done, but it was too late, they were now subject to the madman's dominion and orders.

"My loyal Death Eaters, the plans for the conquest and utter destruction of Hogwarts are finally coming to fruition, and soon, within days, we will go forth and tear the place down stone by stone with the help of our allies the Giants and the trolls who are renowned for their stone breaking abilities. By fire and flood, by wind and earth, we will obliterate the monstrous symbol of enslavement from the face of Wizarding Britain so that the magical folk of this Holy Island, once home to Merlin and the Druids, may take their rightful place as the rulers of this green and pleasant land!"

oo0oo

Harry shuddered and whimpered in his artificially induced coma, unable to wake and escape the nightmare meeting. The flood of power caused by the investiture of so many had ripped away all the Occulmentic barriers he and Severus had spent such a long time creating over the connection he shared with Tom Riddle. Now he saw with his eyes and felt with his nerves and shared the sick enjoyment of the hot, bitter flood as it rushed through their shared veins. Thoughts - some too alien to comprehend - battered at Harry's breached barriers, threatening to drown him in a tainted mill-race of irresistible wickedness. Plans and schemes, meetings satisfactory and galling, moments of terror and of unmitigated enjoyment flickered and pinged through his unwilling brain, layering him with a coating of filth and depravity that clung and mocked.

Faces, incidents, snippets of conversation and sly, voyeuristic peeps into unsuspecting minds melded with coldly logical planning and hot, bitter hatred. Hogwarts, the word/concept/love/terror stood out like a rock in the maelstrom; something to cling to, and Harry latched onto it for his sanity's sake. It was not _his _Hogwarts but an idealised and glowing representation, almost cartoon-like as it turned and moved. Waves of blobby darkness moved forward, some giant blobs, some smaller blobs, but mostly just undulating waves of bodies being tossed at the glowing walls until they began to draw away the unnatural lightness. The walls wavered then swelled into focus in places, wards flickering and moving, stones being removed and rearranged, holes appearing and corridors disappearing into unrelenting darkness. The light was gone and the stones exploded, tossing Harry away into the blackness and maniacally mocking laughter of a victory savoured past all sanity. Small, crawling figures were torn apart, some recognisable representations of well known people, others merely blobs without real form or focus.

It was all future dreaming, a week or a few days, it was hard to tell, hard to chart in this soul sapping pit of disgust. The small spark that was all Harry had left of himself was frantic, a mouse scurrying around on a wheel in the dark. All he could think of was escape, a way out of the morass, a guiding flame to lead him safely back to reality and himself. '_I want to go home,_' his spirit wailed like a lost child, and suddenly a glow arose to his left and a cliché rekindling the slowly extinguishing spark of his consciousness. '_Home is where the heart is._' Ginny! The red glow became a flame guiding him bringing him out of the terror, dancing and bobbing but definitely leading him away from the swamp of despair and dissolution of his soul. The dirty black scarf of depression dragged across his psyche but could not resist the unquenchable glory of his Ginny's very existence. All taint burned away in the flame of his love for his beautiful girl, his love.

"_I'm here, Harry, I'm here._"

The voice echoed in the darkness, drawing him home, and his eyes finally managed to open a tiny squint, blurring and tearing until the glorious flame was right there in his face. A pale thing moved and he felt the liquid silk of her hair running through his fingers, grounding him and pulling him out of the quagmire back into the reality of the hospital wing of Hogwarts. "Ginny."

The anxious watchers let out a collective breath of relief as Harry finally awoke from his tormented sleep, recognising Ginny then sitting up to recognise them all. He slumped in relief then looked around wildly, startling Madame Pomfrey when he grabbed her arm. "A Pensieve, I need a Pensieve immediately," he gasped.

oo0oo

Fifty-one werewolves in less than thirty-six hours! Unbelievable losses, McCarthy thought grimly as he Apparated to Hogsmeade and began the fast lope toward Hogwarts. The Dog Devils, all thirty-eight pack members, had been slaughtered in Luttonvale, their bodies staked out and mutilated, the Morsmodre carved into their flesh as well as hovering in the sky. Thirteen members of the rather more stable Rothampton Ramblers had been killed before the rest of the group could drive off their attackers.

At his side ran Anaglypta Harkness, Alpha female of the Derry Girls, the female counterpart of the Dog Devils, blood in her eye and a snarl on her lips as she paced him step for step. Other Alphas had demanded they be part of the delegation to the Lord of Hogwarts, but Jonathon knew Professor Dumbledore would not appreciate his school being invaded by a pack of wild wolves with mayhem on their minds. Besides, there were other werewolf strongholds and lands to be guarded in the coming conflict.

Remus met them at the doors, nodding to his Alpha and lifting a lip to Lypy, who snarled back and grabbed his forearm to pull him into a rough hug. "We've come to _kill_ some people, point us," she snarled in Remus' ear, and he nodded agreement with a growl of his own.

"There will be throats enough for all by the end of the month," Remus promised her grimly then yelped as McCarthy swatted them both over the back of their heads. Both wolves whipped around with bared teeth then backed down carefully when the Alpha Prime raised an eyebrow in supercilious questioning. "Sorry, Jon," Remus muttered. "Come this way."

Lypy sniggered and bumped his hip as they strode after their Alpha, glancing around curiously as they moved through the halls. She had not attended Hogwarts, being a Beauxbatons graduate and surveyed the heavy grey stone construction of the old castle with a favourable eye. It was well build and would withstand a lot of punishment before the walls cracked or broke. She could taste the wards nipping at her as she passed, testing her, finding her beast and making sure it was safely under her control. She wondered what would happen if she let it free within the confines and immediately felt the tightening of the wards around her. "This place doesn't like our kind, Lupin," she remarked as they approached a gargoyle.

"It doesn't mind werewolves as such, but it dislikes the bloodlust that you are presenting," Remus remarked as he guided the party up to the headmaster's office, opening the door politely.

"Welcome, Mr McCarthy, and Ms Harkness, please, have a seat. May I offer you tea?" Dumbledore asked hospitably, waving his guests to the conversation grouping around the fireplace.

Jonathon went graciously, but Lypy snarled her impatience, her anger spilling over, making Remus shake his head. "We don't have time for all this nitpicking…" she began but was quelled by McCarthy's quietly menacing growl. "Apologies, Alpha."

"Please accept my sympathy for your loss; the Daily Prophet was not very forthcoming with details, I'm afraid, but I infer that it was a grave one," Dumbledore began wearily.

"It was; one of the most fearsome packs was totally wiped out to a man, and one of the most liberal packs was very badly mauled. The Dog Devils protected a large number of our pack areas and meeting grounds during both Moon and other times. Their loss is something like the Ministry losing all the hit wizards at one blow."

"Will you be able to take care of your people now?" Dumbledore asked worriedly.

"Oh yes, werewolves are, by nature, protective of our own and others will step up to take up the guard duties. Mordecai Fontana's pack has stepped into the southern areas, and Bethsheba Greyback has stepped into the northern warding."

"Greyback?" Dumbledore couldn't help the note of alarm that entered his voice at the name.

Lypy laughed a harsh barking sound. "Beth's okay, a real Greyback, not like her rabid cousin Fenrir. I've known her for the past fifty years and a more honourable bitch doesn't exist. We are prepared to bring the girls up to play if Voldemort dares show his face anywhere near one of our kind again. Since Remus tells us that this is his most likely target, then we are yours to command. Between us, we can muster seventy wolves, most of us seasoned and capable fighters both as human and as werewolves. The Alpha Prime has sanctioned the action, and we accept the Beta Prime as our commander for the duration of this action." She turned and nodded sharply to Remus who nodded back equally sharply.

"Seventy trained fighters? My, my, that's quite a force of arms. Er, are they all, er, wizards?"

"About seven are trained wizards, the rest of us are witches, most trained and schooled, a few home-schooled in the Dark Arts as well as basic witchcraft, one or two are totally untrained and quite random, but we tend to send them in first so we can see where their spells are going."

Jonathon and Remus exchanged mischievous grins as the Headmaster looked slightly taken aback at this proud and open assessment of the troops. "Female werewolves are more fierce when aroused than any male ever dares to be, believe me, and more cooperative in a pack action," Jonathon assured the old man with a grin.

"My girls will gnaw the faces off any bloody Death Eater that crosses their path, then tear their heads off just for fun," Lypy assured the Headmaster earnestly.

"Welcome aboard," Dumbledore smiled, offering his hand to the werewolf who grinned as she shook it firmly.

"So, where do we start?" Jonathon asked.

oo0oo

Scrimgeour glared at the Minister before they both flooed up to Hogwarts, stepping out into the headmaster's office and immediately pulling his wand as something grabbed him by the back of the neck and lifted him off the ground. A second later he was deposited on the nearest sofa as the Minister himself arrived. Glaring at the woman who was turning away, he wondered how the hell she had done that to him, but she was more interested in checking the Minster's arrival. Minerva McGonagall was sitting opposite him, grinning like a, well, a cat at his discomfort.

"Well, now that we are all here, we can begin," Dumbledore nodded and smiled, beckoning everyone over to the huge Pensieve set in the middle of the office floor. "We have retrieved this memory, and we would like some help interpreting it. We believe it is vital to the war plans of Voldemort and will give us an advantage if we managed to read it properly. Shall we begin?"

"Complete waste of time," Rufus muttered as he joined the group around the bowl, consisting of the Minister, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin and, of all people, Potter.

He fell into the memory and immediately lost his footing as the spatial relationships were destroyed. Up was left drifting to down and down was right drifting to backwards, the model of Hogwarts tumbling and turning in midair or below him or above. He let out a small 'meep' of consternation and found himself meeting a pair of maliciously amused black eyes. Someone to his left gagged, and he almost smiled when he realised the Minister was suffering a bout of vertigo even more severe than his. Then what he was actually witnessing caught his attention and he forgot about scruffy school boys, arrogant spies and badly performing Ministers in his sudden intense interest. Watching the movement of the stones, the inflation and deflation of sections, the constantly changing ward signatures, he could almost get the sense of it, but it eluded his grasp as he tried to force himself forward and further into the memory.

"It's a video game," someone muttered to his right and Lupin suddenly walked into view apparently unaffected by the changing versions of 'down'. "Look, look here, ignore the changing perspectives and follow the main thrust of the colours. He wants to send a probe here and here and here, then actually assault here while no one is looking, then he is going to send troops down here, probably broomstick born, or - does he have access to dragons or thestrals? - broomsticks then. The wards… what does he plan to do to the wards, change them, recalibrate them…"

"Give them a virus?" Potter piped up, giggling.

"Merlin, Harry, that's brilliant! Give the wards a virus! Who are they keyed to, Headmaster? If you were ill or delirious, how would the wards react? Would he be able to re-key them to himself if you were out of action?"

"Always possible, Remus, brilliant supposition actually," Dumbledore murmured, patting the werewolf on the back. "Has anyone any idea of when the attacks might occur? Any feelings, speculations, possibilities? Then let us return to my office."

The group were somewhat subdued as they sat around the conference table the Headmaster had conjured. The Minister and the Head of the Aurory were interested in watching the interaction between the various heads of their new allies. Only Severus Snape seemed to be completely divorced from the lively debate that sprang up between the headmaster and the werewolf Alpha, his head sunk between his shoulders as he stared off into space.

"You are very quiet, Severus, any thoughts?" Professor Dumbledore asked into a moment of silence.

"About the attack date, no, but I think I might have a way of finding out without alerting the Dark Lord. It is a long shot, but anything is better than nothing at all, don't you think?" Severus mused, almost to himself. "After all, Dylantin does owe me a favour of my choosing, does he not?" The most evil smirk anyone had ever seen suddenly graced the Potion Master's face as he turned to face the headmaster fully. "Yes, Dylantin Rosier has owed me a favour for nearly twenty years, and I would imagine he has forgotten all about it by now. I think it is about time to remind him."


	41. Know Thine Enemy

**Chapter 40** – _Know Thine Enemy_

The pub was seedy and run down, the low beams smoke-blackened and time-grimed. The bulls-eye glass in the windows let in a minimum of light made less by the build up of soot and spider webs that may have been there since Elizabethan times when the pub was first built. Unfortunately, Elizabethan rooflines were not made for modern heights and the unwary could easily knock themselves silly, much to the delight of the locals who crouched like trolls over the filthy tables.

Severus was not unwary as he ducked through the low doorway, despite his height, his eyes adjusting readily to the gloom, although his nose protested bitterly. Within seconds he had located his quarry and glided over to the corner table, sliding silently into the seat opposite the slumped bundle of rags. For a moment he wondered if the creature was still alive, but a slow moving hand gathering up the tankard put pay to that question.

"What you want?" the slurred voice asked, a slurping noise indicating there was some sort of liquid in the tankard. The man tried to peer into the depths of the hood concealing the visitor's identity

"You owe me a favour…" The voice was unmistakable!

"Severus? Merlin's balls, you bastard, I thought you were dead."

Severus cursed the fact that Rosier had recognised his voice but did not remove his hood. "Likewise, Dylantin, but no such luck. Now, I want my favour."

Dylantin Rosier pushed back his hood to show a ravaged face, his habits taking a toll of his looks and magic. He snorted bitterly and finished his ale with a gulp. "What do you want? Money, don't have any. A blow job? Usually costs a couple of galleons, but for you…. Potions ingredients? I have none and I don't think my carcass is suitable for processing, too 'polluted', isn't that the Muggle way of saying filthy dirty? Information, who would tell me anything? They think I am not a good security risk. I would shoot my mouth off to the wrong person for the price of a fix. Hell, they only told me the raid on Hogwarts would begin at the next full moon, because they want me to lead the canon fodder to the slaughter. They figure the foreigners would take it better if a few Britishers were in the front lines with them. So we disposable, walking corpses are to go along and make sure the battle gets started. Do you ever get the feeling your life is a waste of time, Severus? Maybe I should have died gloriously instead of Evan, and perhaps then I would have been appreciated at home…"

Severus snorted in disgust, tucking away the titbit of information safely. "No one ever appreciates the living, not if the dead are so safely dead and beyond criticism," he agreed softly.

"Yeah well, there are going to be some very surprised families once the werewolves have finished the first assault, I can tell you, all those precious, saintly dead men walking!" He burst into cackles of laughter at his own witticism. "I have got to see their faces! You don't have a mausoleum, do you, Severus? Snapes don't need one, do they?"

"No, our dead tend to keep playing politics as long as there are warm bodies to feed on, inconvenient for their heirs, but there you have it."

"I _knew_ you lot were vampires! Bet you some of the European ones are friends of yours? Should be a great reunion, for you."

"Well, depending on which families are going to be represented. Any ideas?"

The man scratched his scalp loosening flakes of dandruff and strands of greying hair indiscriminately. "Something like Aaron contract –"

"Aroncontre?"

"Yeah, and the mumblipongos."

Severus bit his lip. "Murem Blipengos?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Humm, probably best if I didn't get too close then, Murem and my Grandmother had a falling out about a hundred and fifty years ago, and vampires take feuding up to an art form."

"Haw! Maybe staying away from the Forbidden Forest would be a good idea then, that's where I am coming from with the vamps and a couple of giants."

Severus snorted and signalled the barkeep to bring another pint for the man. "Sometimes it just doesn't pay to get out of bed, and that day would probably be a good one to sleep in on," he mused as the tankard was slopped onto the table, a second dropped in front of him. Galleons changed hands, and Severus sat back pretending to sip the noisome brew. His nose detected a very badly brewed Draught of the Living Dead slipped into the ale, probably with a view to robbery rather than murder. Still, being unconscious in this tavern was not on his agenda for the day. Smiling slightly in the concealment of his hood, he cast a wandless spell at Dylantin, making him forget he had even spoken to Severus Snape recently and rose silently. The interest level in the pub rose dramatically, but no one moved as he made his way outside. By the time they did decide the drug would have worked, he had long Apparated away.

oo0oo

Knockturn Alley was permanently gloomy, the overhanging buildings pressing down on the narrow, cobbled streets. Robinton The Apothecary had a back door leading straight to the warehouse where people could slip in rather than use the front door and be observed in the course of their business. Severus Snape was a well known customer at both the front and the back door of the shop, the assistant letting him in well after closing time as instructed. Master Robinton came immediately on being summoned and perused the list of ingredients the Potions Master handed him with a knowledgeable air.

"Bulk Wolfsbane potion then," he commented casually and found a long, pale hand wrapped firmly around his throat, his toes barely touching the ground.

"We do not speculate, we do not think, we simply fetch or we do not have a life, never mind a business, is that clear?" Severus murmured in the old man's ear, ignoring his deepening shade of purplish blue.

The old man barely managed to nod, blessed air flooding his lungs as the hand was withdrawn. "Certainly, Sir, no chat, no thought, just fetch."

Some of the ingredients on the list were definitely not for the Wolfsbane potion but Robinton Senior was wise enough to keep that information to himself. He knew there would only be one warning from the gaunt Potions Master, and the Potions Master's Master did not tolerate failure of any sort. Once the order was assembled and packed into boxes, Snape shrank the boxes down to pocket size. He handed over the five hundred galleons without a demure and watched carefully as the potion the money was coated with began to do its work. In seconds the old man had forgotten who had handed him the coinage, and a few seconds later his assistant, who had to put the money into the Gringotts holding vault, had also forgotten all about their late night visitor. Snape slipped away without a trace and Apparated back to the edge of Hogwarts' grounds.

As he walked from the gates to the huge front doors, he surveyed the area by the light of the almost full moon with an eye to concealment and attack. Much as he loved the terraced banks of flowers, and shrubs carved into fantastic beasts and birds, he knew they would give far too much cover to anyone trying to creep up on the walls. He knew there were wards and charms to monitor the progress of an intruder, but they were more or less set to monitor a single intruder. Severus worried that multiple intrusions would overwhelm their defences leaving them vulnerable in a crucial area. Sighing deeply, he slipped into the nearest entrance then realised all the small, side entrances had to be blocked up or at least concealed from casual notice. _'Merlin, it was all too hard, and he was getting far too old for this,_' he thought wearily as he entered his dungeon and, leaving the boxes on the table, tossed himself face down on his bed, asleep in seconds.

oo0oo

"Headmaster! We have to face facts, not bury our heads in what we wish was so. If Dylantin is to be believed, we will be facing _Inferi_ as well as werewolves, giants and vampires, probably trolls too. I don't care if only a madman would turn _Inferi_ loose in a school where there are young and helpless children. Do I need to remind you that we are dealing with a bloody raving nutter, in case you have forgotten!"

Snape on a rant was something to behold, even Alastor sat back to watch the great bat swoop up and down the length of the headmaster's study, foam almost flying from his lips in his ire. A vein throbbed in the Potions Master's temple, and a number of the seated watchers wondered if he was going to stamp his feet so great was his temper. Then suddenly the impending tantrum simply disappeared, the usual cold, supercilious mask dropping over his face. "Whether the information is true or false, is not the issue, we need to be prepared in case it is true and that way we will not be caught short if the worst comes to pass."

"Now that was impressive," Ron murmured to Draco as they followed the Potions Master's stalk back to his seat.

"When he has to go into battle, all that repressed anger will come flooding out as useable power, you realise?" Draco muttered back softly.

"Pity Mum never learned how to do that, she just lets fly," Ron replied then sat up attentively as the headmaster began to speak.

"Gentlebeings, while I sincerely hope Tom is not going to bring _Inferi_ to Hogwarts, we will, as Severus suggests, be prepared for the worst. Minerva, the wards need to be altered to alert us to their presence. Alastor, can you teach our trainee Aurors how to defeat an _Inferius_? What to do if they are confronted by one? Severus, is there any way to 'neutralise' the spells and potions used to create them?"

"It is quicker to completely destroy them outright than try to neutralise them as it takes more power than a simple blasting spell," Severus replied heavily. "Just decapitate them."

"Ah, and the werewolf situation, Remus?"

Remus looked up finally, his face drawn and tired as full moon approached. "Our ladies have discovered there are thirty-two werewolves fighting on the other side. Between eleven o'clock and six thirty the next morning we are all going to be in wolf form and at our most deadly. Is it in any way possible to make enough Wolfsbane Potion to dose say twenty of our werewolves, so that we can retain our intelligence and direct the others in the fight as necessary?"

Dumbledore began to answer but was cut off by Severus who snorted. "The potion is already brewing, enough for seventy wolves, thanks to the assistance of Madame Pomfrey, Madam Malfoy and Mister Malfoy. There is also another potion we are brewing, rather experimental, but it seemed to work on the only volunteers the Dark Lord managed to, er, acquire, Fenrir's handiwork, I believe." A shiver went down every spine as the Potions Master looked up. "Oh, don't worry, it was deemed a failure as it did not kill the recipients and thus was abandoned. In fact, there were no after-effects at all; the werewolves came out of their transformation as healthy as they went into it."

"And what potion is that, Severus?" Albus asked softly.

"It prolongs the transformation for up to twenty-four hours after moon set," Severus said softly, staring at Remus who blinked in surprise.

"But why would you want to do that?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I didn't, I was instructed to brew a poison that would cause the werewolves to tear themselves apart when they began to transform, interrupt the smooth flow and cause them to end up a pile of shredded meat instead of either a human or a wolf. As I said, it was a failed potion, unless you want to keep your werewolves at their peak of efficiency and ability to fight. What do you think, Remus? Willing to try it?"

Remus shivered for another reason but then he nodded decisively. "Yes!"

There was a storm of protest from around the table, but the three werewolves present simply sat unmoved until the group settled down again. "If the Potions Blender can give us more weapons to fight this evil, then who are we to refuse? Headmaster Dumbledore, you need every person you can field to try and defeat this evil. If you fail to defeat him then our lives will be a short miserable existence with certain death at the end of a few weeks. At least this way we can be of more use to the cause and perhaps managed to tip the tide into your favour." The Alpha Prime of Great Britain spoke, not merely Jonathon McCarthy, and there was no arguing with his logic.

"Very well, we accept your offer," Dumbledore nodded, "but is there any way to test this potion before we use it, en masse, so to speak?"

"If we had the luxury of time, yes, but we do not. The werewolves willing to be part of the experiment must take the dose this full moon. If the Dark Lord fails to attack then we will have the time to study the effects, or lack of them, more closely," Severus said in measured tones.

"I will call for volunteers," Lypy said resolutely. "How many can you handle?"

"About seventy," Severus stated without hesitation.

"Looks like we are recruiting," Lupin grinned.

"Werewolves, trolls, vampires, giants, has You-Know-Who called up every dark creature he can get his hands on?" Draco asked in amazement.

"Any creature, dark or not, who can be charmed into spilling their life's blood in his cause," Snape said musingly. "He has appealed to the lowest possible levels of all those societies where the disaffected and the discontented dwell and dream of better things given to them without effort on their part."

"'_No such thing as a free lunch_'," Harry quoted absently, a frown pulling down his brows over his nose. "How do we stop giants and trolls?"

"Oh, we Aurors have a few little tricks and traps that will help take care of those types of creatures," Alastor assured him with a cackle of maniacal glee.

"If it is possible not to hurt the trolls or the giants, I would appreciate it. They are not the most sophisticated of the non-human species and really do not deserve to die for their mistakes," Dumbledore said softly into the silence caused by the old Auror's laughter.

Alastor simply shook his head in disgust before nodding reluctantly. "Are we going to bring up a cadre of Aurors before the attack starts? We may not get a chance once it is begun."

"The Minister has been kind enough to allow a team of fifteen Aurors to be stationed here at Hogwarts on a permanent basis until the crisis is over and on the dates we suspect there will be an attack, he has authorised the addition of a further thirty Aurors. So, we should have a rather well trained unit on hand," Minerva said in satisfaction.

"If they get through in time and if Scrimgeour doesn't do something to screw us up," Harry muttered grimly, a few eyebrows shooting up.

"Why do you say that, Harry?" Remus asked quietly.

"Oh, come on, Remus, Rufus Scrimgeour hates me and will go out of his way to make sure he does me over at every turn, be he Minister or Head of the Aurory. If he could somehow prove I was telling lies at any point, he would toss me in Azkaban, make no mistake about that."

The adults at the table glanced at each other, clearly unable or unwilling to believe the teen, probably putting it down to some teenage hang-up, Harry thought grimly, but Ron and Draco were convinced he was quite right in his summation of the ex-Minister's attitude toward the Boy Who Lived. Wisely, Dumbledore moved the discussion on further before any arguments could break out.

They discussed provisioning and the evacuation of the castle, how the teams of Aurors, trainee Aurors and werewolves could be best used, who might come in from Hogsmeade if they were called and how many ordinary citizens were likely to step up if a general call for help was issued. Even if general citizens did come forward, were the defenders willing to allow them into the castle in case they were agents for the Dark Lord and how could they reliably test for such traitors amongst the rank and file.

"There's a lot more involved in planning a defence than I even dreamed about," Ron commented as they broke for a cup of tea and a snack. "I never even thought about drinking water; it just comes in a glass, doesn't it?"

"Right up until the opposition poisons the reservoir," Snape commented, picking up a small salmon and cucumber sandwich and devouring it in two bites. "Food, too, has to be carefully conserved and stockpiled in case no more can be brought in or in case the current provisions are contaminated in any way. Food poisoning has put pay to more very good defences than siege or bombast ever did. Good sandwiches, by the way, do try some." He wandered off, leaving a smirking Draco in his wake, Ron simply staring with his mouth hanging open until Draco shut it with a finger under his chin.

"You really are going to have to stop looking like a fly trap, Weasel," Draco commented, taking one of the recommended sandwiches and avoiding Ron's half-hearted slap.

oo0oo

Having the four Elements at his beck and call was a truly soul satisfying feeling for Lord Voldemort. Anything he wanted was his for the asking, or the taking. A Muggle village displeased him and a sea of mud engulfed it, a half-blood family defied him and lightening destroyed their homes, their lives. Power lay at his fingertips, more than he had ever controlled before, intoxicating in its siren song of glory. Still, he was wise, using the Elementals sparingly, knowing they resented the harnessing of blood and ritual he had cast upon them. If they saw a weakness, they would exploit it and so Lord Voldemort hid himself away in Little Hangleton and plotted, planned and waited, making sure he had every aspect of his campaign mapped in his head, if not confided to his minions.

Over the years he had created Horcruxes to hold fragments of his soul, to guarantee immortality, but various pieces had been discovered and liberated. Most had dissipated and gone harmlessly away; a few small soul fragments had returned to him, limping and weakened, but not all! There was still one fragment out there which would anchor him in case of the unthinkable happening, his 'hole-card', he sniggered. Still, when he faced the brat last time, there had been one fatal flaw in his great working, a weakness that had been turned against him and exploited by whichever guardian spirit followed the boy. To eliminate his last weakness, he called upon the Elements and drew from them the very heart of the land, smelted and moulded it with the fires of heaven, filled it with the breath of the skies and quenched it in the tears of the earth. No pathetic wand would he take into battle to turn and betray his hand, never again would the weakness of wood twist against him as he faced his puny foe and strike at his success. Never!

Thunder and lightening, wind and tremor danced and jerked to the force of his vow.

oo0oo

The final plans were not complete in any shape or form, merely an outline of what could happen if the Dark Forces did this or that. The school had been sectioned off and a solid core of fighters assigned to each section, a floating force ready to move to any section that needed reinforcing throughout the encounters. As Draco pointed out most astutely, a heavily planned reaction would only be a disadvantage as their opponents would actually dictate the shape of their defences. The werewolves would be the most heavily engaged group having been assigned to the main defence of the grounds.

Harry protested about exposing them to needless danger only to be gently curbed by Remus, who pointed out that werewolves were creatures of shadow and movement more suited to roaming the grounds and attacking anything that moved. Confine them to the narrow corridors and hallways of the castle's interior and their effectiveness would be blunted or totally lost.

If the Dark Lord brought in the _inferi,_ then the werewolves were to keep clear of them unless they had a real chance to tear the bodies apart. Jonathon McCarthy was somewhat reluctant to expose his people to the dangers inherent in sinking their teeth into what was in reality dead flesh animated only by magic. Remus looked a little green at the thought, and Lypy quietly disappeared into a corner and vomited into a wastepaper basket before returning a little pale and shaky to their discussions, her determination to fight unshaken. The rest of the war council were amazed and somewhat humbled by the resilience and determination of the werewolf contingent and were determined to do no less for the war effort. A resolution was passed to set the werewolves at the trolls and giants to help keep them safe from the Inferi who would need magic rather than raw physical strength to bring them down.


	42. Hogwarts Besieged

**Author Note: I** don't know how this happened but there has been a horrible mistake in the uploading of this story and quite a few chapters are missing. This was completed before the Deathly Hallows and is therefore very AU. Please accept my appologies fir the foul-up and here are the finished chapters. A huge thank you to **latinanewschic** who drew my attention to this. Thanks again.

Cheers

Les

**Chapter 41 – **_Hogwarts Besieged_

**WARNING: Some blood, death and mayhem.**

The following week was tense and nervous for all the inhabitants of Hogwarts Castle. Teachers and students tried to carry on as usual, but it was difficult. Debate raged in the staffrooms and common rooms over how the evacuations should be staged, when they would be staged, immediately or at the last minute. As it occurred there was not much time, the perimeter alarms chiming intrusions from the Forbidden Forest, the lake and the front gates almost simultaneously.

Dinner in the Great Hall was over, and the majority of the students had returned to either their common rooms or the library to study. The Ravenclaw Quidditch team were holding practice on the field with instructions not to go any higher than twenty-five feet. Spectators were limited to four hardy individuals consisting of two reserve beaters, a score keeper and the keeper's current girlfriend. Madam Hooch had just blown her whistle to bring the team down for a conference when a flare from the border alarm sent a chill along everyone's nerves. Three cloaked figures were running toward the pitch, wands drawn, the nearest one tossing a curse.

Rory McFarlane did not stop to think as the curse almost hit Stella as she tried to run for the cover of the Quidditch sheds, he dived his broom and swept her off her feet, holding her across the handle by the back of her robes. Merriweather, one of the beaters sent the bludger barrelling hard toward the oncoming trio, making them duck for cover. His partner Mary Scott grinned tigerishly and sent the second bludger away as the chasers swept down and grabbed the other three spectators in the same way McFarlane had grabbed his girl. Madam Hooch brought up the rear, sent a hex winging away as the team and support staff swept past the Quidditch sheds and on to the main entrance, swooping straight through the doors with no regard to the usual school rules. Three women ducked out as they flew in and the ornate, iron bound doors slammed shut after them.

Running swiftly and smoothly, the women used the minimal cover to the best of their advantage, wishing they were transformed at that point. Still, they had their magic and were not afraid to use it as they spotted the intruders. One of them seemed to have broken an arm and was being harassed by a bludger that buzzed around the group wildly, the other bludger skimmed in wobbling circles blown in half by a well placed blast. Even as the two uninjured opponents dealt with the second bludger, the three werewolves were upon them, casting hexes with pin-point accuracy, using the Quidditch bleachers for cover.

oo0oo

Four people probed the wards at the lake's edge, wondering if they could launch the small boats they had brought with them. Three of the four were French wizards, unaccustomed to the vagarities of Scottish weather and wondering how it had turned so cold so quickly. They were more interested in grumbling and fussing as the two small boats were launched onto the glass-like stillness of the loch, their paddles dipping rhythmically. It was so easy to propel the boat they quickly fell into the perfect synchronised stroke needed for efficient canoeing until the lead boat realised they were no longer making forward progress. In fact, they were slewing off course and heading for the middle of the lake, rather than the castle perched on the far edge. Frowning, the lead paddler thrust his blade down hard and was astonished to meet with resistance. An earthquake-like rumbling suddenly made the glassy surface of the lake dance and tremble then a geyser of water erupted, great long tentacles reaching out to engulf the two tiny boats. Screams rang out and became gurgles as the giant squid, protector of the Hogwarts waters, dragged the four intruders down to the depths where the mer-people made efficient use of the canoe materials. Not even a bubble escaped to show the fate of the lake-born raiding party.

oo0oo

At the harried arrival of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, everyone bolted for their house common rooms, leaving library books and games strewn in their wake. The senior prefects of each house glanced at each other and, although each house was in a separate common room, they all made the same decision at the same time.

"Make your pairs, let's go!"

Each third year took their first year partner in their arms, tossed a handful of Floo powder in the fire and called 'Ministry Foyer' very clearly. With the smallest of the pair clinging tightly to the larger, the evacuation went twice as fast. Second year pairs went next, a pair at a time for speed and efficiency. This was not a teacher initiated plan but a trainee-Auror plan, weighed up, decided and instigated by Weasley and Malfoy. Neither wanted a school full of little kids to have to deal with, and each decided the kids were more than old enough to handle the Floo system rather than stay as sitting ducks if the battle for Hogwarts went badly. Even the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs had agreed without an argument, although the fourth-years, who would be going last, didn't actually want to go until it was pointed out that the younger kids would need looking after at the other end.

Only half the fourth-year contingent managed to Floo away before the system slammed shut, cut off mid transfer. A Slytherin girl became the first casualty of the siege as she was literally sliced in half by the closing curse, much to the horror of her classmates. A boy in Ravenclaw was slightly burned when the green flames suddenly lost colour and became real fire, setting his shoes and robe alight. Fortunately the next girl in line had the sense to grab his arm and drag him clear, the rest of his mates pulling his clothes off hurriedly. Although he lost a little skin and a lot of dignity he was otherwise unhurt.

The remains of fourth-years and the older years made another school-wide, undiscussed decision and all cleared their common rooms, heading for the Great Hall to confess what they had managed to do.

oo0oo

The Ministry building was closed for the night as the first pairs of thirteen- and eleven-year-olds Flooed in. They immediately moved away from the Floos, congregating in the middle of the rather barren floor space to look around uncertainly. This building wasn't as nice as the old Ministry building, grey steel girders holding up a high roof, the floor a mix of grey concrete and painted lines. Only a quarter of the high ceiling lights were lit and then only at half power, leaving a lot of stark and gloomy shadows dancing on the wall. Some of the younger ones were beginning to look a little scared when a bright third year Gryffindor suddenly made a bird shape flap across a wall, causing a ripple of relieved laughter as the crowd grew.

Suddenly a door flew open at the far side of the space, and every wand was instantly focussed on the very surprised caretaker who had come to find out why the dodgy alarm charm was bleating intermittently. "Holy Merlin! Where did all you kids come from?" the young man asked in shock.

"Hogwarts is under attack," Trudy Bones said firmly, pushing to the front of the crowd. "Where are the Aurors? We need to alert them or something."

"Now come on, I can't be taking such a wild goose tale to the Aurors, they'll…."

The fireplaces blew out, tossing four bodies across the room to be caught by their fellows. Screams and wails escalated as half a body came from one fire, landing soggily on the hearth rug. "Oh Merlin, it's Ann Nirelson from Slytherin," one of the Hufflepuffs told them tearily. "We need Aurors, now!"

The caretaker stumbled as people boiled in behind him, ruby red robes swirling as they hurried toward the line-up of Floo fires on the wall. No amount of powder would allow them to Floo to Hogwarts, but other destinations were still answering, including the Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta didn't hesitate to agree to allow all the Aurors to Floo into her premises as the closest one to Hogwarts left open. Within moment most of the Aurors had gone leaving four behind to deal with the children.

oo0oo

"They're early, damn it!" Malfoy muttered under his breath as he hurried along the corridor after Pansy and Goyle, the other Slytherins who had had their orders clumping around them. A number of Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs and amazingly a Gryffindor boy joined them in the deserted classroom they had chosen as the rendezvous point. Malfoy climbed up on a desk, the rest of the group standing smirking at each other.

"Okay, show me your marks," he called, rolling up his left sleeve to show the Dark Mark glowing black and evil on his arm.

The younger ones were not marked and were not expected to be marked therefore they were safe. Most of the older ones rolled their sleeves up with a complacent smugness that made Draco want to slap them silly. One of the Ravenclaws looked a little sick as he rolled his sleeve up to show a bare arm and was immediately covered by wands.

"What are we going to do with the spy, Draco, honey?" Pansy giggled, sashaying up and poking her wand hard under his chin.

"Back up, Pans; Crabbe, take him out the back and find out where his loyalties lie. Here, you might need this," he tossed his henchman a tiny bottle of _Veritaserum_ with a shark smile.

Crabbe bowed formally and grabbed the Ravenclaw by the hair, towing him away without regard for his dignity. Pansy giggled and Goyle cracked his knuckles suggestively as they passed, the rest of the group grinning uneasily. Draco surveyed his troops from his perch atop the table, memorising every face for future reference.

"The Floos are shut; we cannot leave Hogwarts to join the fighting with our parents. Therefore we are going to go back and blend with the school population, become the thorn in their sides, so to speak. As Professor Snape pointed out, there are a few vulnerabilities that can only be exploited from inside the school, and it will be our job to do just that." He waited until the cheers subsided before glancing around. "You younger ones who are not marked will be the most dangerous little snakes in the grass. You can blend with the general populace and do what needs to be done. In the early stages of the siege everything will be fairly organised so we won't get too many chances, but as things go on and start falling to pieces then we can strike efficiently. Over the course of the next few hours, perhaps days, you will receive your instructions. If they are real instructions, they will have my personal seal on one corner for authenticity. Do not be taken in by bogus orders, will you? Now, all you unmarked kids go back to your places and just be kids."

Grumbling, the group departed, a couple shivering fearfully at the dull sound of flesh thudding on flesh coming from the next classroom. Crabbe was really working the suspect over! Pansy paused outside the doorway, a sly smirk twisting her pug-like features as she listened as if to fine music. Goyle was almost drooling as he waited with her, a hand rubbing her back most suggestively. Draco swallowed his distaste as he approached and smiled grimly.

"Run along, you two love-birds, and let me deal with this … situation," he murmured as he entered the classroom, allowing them a glimpse of the Ravenclaw strung up by his thumbs in the centre of the room.

"Oh, Draco, can't we help?" Pansy whined, running a hand over his arm winningly.

"Not this time, make sure the rest of the group have settled into their roles and see that the Slytherins are just as safe as the rest of the school. You know how we are regarded, and even if the rest are still ambivalent to our cause, they are still Slytherins."

Goyle nodded worshipfully and wandered off, a reluctant Pansy following as Draco closed the door after him.

"What's the story?" he asked as Grabbe drew back and rearranged his shirt collar.

"His name is Jack Loomis, and the stupid bugger was spying on the evil Dark Lord's minions, wants to be an Auror when he grows up. He thought he might like to catch all us terrible Slytherins plotting against the school and become a hero to the masses."

"I am surprised you can make such a coherent speech," Loomis managed to gasp, the _Veritaserum_ making him less than diplomatic.

"And if we were to turn you loose? What would you do then?" Draco asked, waving Vincent back as he surveyed their spy. "Did you have to make such a mess of him?" he added in an aside.

Crabbe grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Gotta make it look good, you know," he commented.

"I'll tell Professor Flitwick just what you all plan and give him all of your names!" the youth said with manic bravery.

"Really, well, I suppose I can live with that. Right, listen here, you stupid little boy, you are about to become a counter-counter spy and you will not say a word about this to anyone except who I tell you to, understood!" Draco poked his wand under the bloodied chin and murmured a charm that made the youth slump even deeper into his bindings. _Imperio_ was illegal, but it was so damned handy!

oo0oo

The three woman hit-squad came back, two helping the third between them, her ankle badly swollen but not broken, Madam Pomfrey announced after a quick examination and a good dose of potion for the swelling. Sonja slapped her running mate on the shoulder cheerfully before turning to the Beta Prime who was waiting for the report.

"We took them out, although the bludger had taken one of them down first. They were male, all three branded, one of them was definitely French, the other two were English and none of them werewolves. In fact, the last one standing seemed more terrified that we would turn him as soon as we could than that we were going to kill him. A real fate worse than death, it seems." She shook her head and laughed although it was harsh and biting. "Anyway, we removed all three heads and cast a timed _Incendio_ so they will be burned in about five minutes, which gave us time to get away. No way will we be meeting those three again as _inferi_."

"Good job," Remus praised, stroking cheeks and allowing them to brush against his shoulders as they passed heading to where a table of drinks had been set up in the Great Hall. "Well, that's first blood, I think. Now it is going to get serious." He turned to look at the war council clustered around the staff table where the maps were laid out.

Dumbledore, Moody, Snape, Potter, Weasley, Malfoy, McCarthy, Lupin and Harkness had been appointed to the defence council when setting up the plans. Three leaders from the three main sections of the current Hogwarts Defence force, the Professors, the students and the werewolves. It sounded unwieldy but it worked. They were all hoping they would have more allies before the forces of Darkness attacked, but it seemed that was not to be. Professor Dumbledore bent over his plans and sighed silently as he reviewed their preparations once again, hoping they had enough troops to hold the old place. If Hogwarts fell, there was not much further hope for the rest of the wizarding world or humanity as a whole.

oo0oo

Molly glanced at the members of the Order as they crowded into her kitchen, nodding once to Roger who nodded back resolutely. Every member of the Order they could round up was assembled, and Molly was about to test the illegal connection Fabian and Gideon had set up many years ago. If it worked, they would be sending every person they could muster though to help defend Hogwarts. If it failed then they would all Apparate up to Hogsmeade and do their best to win through to relieve the school's defenders.

"Emergency connection, Hogwarts," she said clearly, tossing a handful of Floo powder into the flames while holding onto the key brick at the side of the mantle shelf. It definitely wouldn't work without a Prewitt holding the brick.

The flames turned green and the way was open, the first person stepping in and spinning away. Molly nodded grimly and kept up a steady stream of Floo powder as all twenty members Flooed ahead of her. Taking a last, long look around her kitchen in case she never saw it again, Molly checked the clock then drew a deep breath. "This is it, Arthur, do or die," she muttered as she stepped into the flames and was gone. The kitchen fire went out!

oo0oo

Scrimgeour glared around the thirty Aurors assembled on the edge of the village ready to advance at his order. Their intelligence had indicated that the attack would probably be in the early hours of the morning, no matter what Dumbledore's intelligence had said. To be proved wrong was like a spur in his mind, making him even more irritable than usual. He hated to be proven wrong by _amateurs_! His own plan of attack consisted of a two pronged movement of people and resources, one from the air, one from the land. There were quite a few brooms already to bear the aerial troops, the rest holding Dellusionment Charms prepared to cast at a moment's notice. The plan was to spread out and advance in a thinly strung line over as great a distance as possible. Hopefully the Hogwarts border wards would recognise them as Aurors and not repulse them as they entered the grounds.

Any resistance was to be instantly crushed, no prisoners taken and no quarter given. Some of the older Aurors remembered fighting _Inferi_ in the first war and how horrifying it was to see your partners and loved ones coming at you with blank faces and lethal intent. Everyone knew that, if you were killed, then your fellow Aurors would remove your head and burn your body instantly to stop the spell taking effect. Unfortunately the _Inferi_ spell was insidious. The more _Inferi_ there were in the area the stronger the spell was and the faster it worked to convert the recently dead of a battle field. It was one of the most terrifying spells of the Dark Arts, and Scrimgeour planned to campaign to put it onto the Unforgivable list as soon as he had the leisure to do battle.

Shacklebolt scratched his order tattoo, realising it was itching like crazy, then the significance of the itch suddenly registered.

"We have company," he warned softly, his fellow Aurors rising to hair trigger readiness as a hex suddenly lashed out from the cover of the aqueduct on their right. Thanks to Kingsley's few seconds warning, everyone was already ducking for cover and they were not taken completely by surprise. The battle for Hogsmeade was joined.


	43. First Battle

Chapter 42 – First Battle

**Chapter 42** – _First Battle_

Madam Pomfrey looked up in surprise as the door to the infirmary opened then squeaked as her two favourite partners-in-crime arrived. Roger grinned, returning her hug as Molly patted her back and began to unpack her pockets. Roger did the same, engorging the massed supplies they had brought with them.

"Thought you might need a few things," Molly remarked, popping a couple of crates of Skele-gro onto a shelf before engorging them.

"Pepper-up and Fortifying Potion, so much of them, how wonderful. We have already had our first casualties, one sprain and one death. I have worked here by myself for years but for the first time I felt totally overwhelmed by the responsibility of being the sole medical authority in the castle. And now you two arrive like a gift from Merlin."

It wasn't until the bounty was put away that Poppy thought to question their serendipitous arrival, but by then the rest of the Order members had gone off to join the defenders in the Great Hall and be assigned to their positions in the coming battle.

oo0oo

Pomona Sprout knew she was not a warrior as some of the other teachers were; she was a gardener, a grower of plants and a developer of cultivars, not a destroyer of lives. Oh, some of her creations were bloodthirsty creatures, part plant, part animal and capable of destroying living creatures. But on the whole, she was a peaceable person who preferred not to fight if she could help it.

When Harry warned them that the school was going to be the site of the last battle, she had immediately called in her sixth- and seventh-year classes to help save the plants in the greenhouses. Every plant was assessed and as many of the common ones as were ready were harvested immediately. The very rarest plants she had immediately sent off to her own private 'plant ark', a secret location known only to Neville Longbottom, Albus Dumbledore and her sister, Frieda. If anything happened to the school then the rarities and newly developed species would survive. Rare plants that could be split were immediately sent off, the cuttings and root slips sent to the Royal Horticultural College in the south so that they would have the benefit of the plants if they needed them.

Once the plants were guaranteed to survive, she then led her classes on a seek and destroy mission, denuding some of the outlying greenhouses of all vegetation, locking them down and rendering them impenetrable so that no one need defend them if there were not enough people to go around. The greenhouses actually attached to the school could not be mothballed in such a fashion and had to be physically defended if there was an attack. To help in the defences, the vegetation was cut back to the lowest possible height, paths were cleared through the beds and such interesting species as Devil's Snare, Bubotubers and Venomous Tentacular were encouraged to lie across the gravel and in the beds to catch the unwary.

Stone potting benches were levitated into position to act as breastwork to hide the defenders, and the roof water tanks were filled with acid so that anyone in the greenhouses could be doused from the overhead watering system. It would destroy the plants, but these were not botanically significant species or were so common that they could easily be replaced once the school was out of danger. If worse came to worst, they would not be particularly helpful to anyone who conquered the castle and the surprise in the sprayers might even strike a blow after the battle if the school was indeed lost.

All in all, Pomona had done what she could to make one of the weakest points in the defences of Hogwarts as secure as possible. If it came right down to it, she would even fight to the death to keep the enemy at bay until the huge blocks of stone poised inside the walls could be moved into place to block the corridors inside the building and close the holes in their defences. But that was a last ditch stand as there were still many vegetables and useful potions ingredients to be had from the greenhouses, even in their denuded state, enough good to outweigh the possible weakness the greenhouses presented. Sighing deeply, the rotund woman nodded to her fellow defenders and sat down behind the potting bench to await the rising of the sun or the first attack, which ever came first. Neville and Luna smiled back, taking their seats beside her, the rest of their group spreading out around the defences, equally dedicated to the defence of their school and their lives.

oo0oo

The attacking party that was approaching from the main gate thought they would be the first party to be engaged and were ready for anything. Before the moon touched the topiary figures with silvery radiance, they moved unchallenged through the rising paths toward the castle. Something rustled in the undergrowth and all five wands blasted, a patch of vegetation withering and dying under the massed killing curses. The disintegrating foliage revealed a very dead and very unlucky rabbit who had definitely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Laughing uneasily, the party of five continued to slink from shadow to shadow, wondering where the vaunted opposition were and why they had been allowed to get within twenty metres of the walls.

"I don't like it," Louis d'Angou murmured to his partner, a black wizard from the middle of Sudan, the translation spell making him understandable.

"I don't like it either; I feel eyes upon me," Akim replied equally quietly, turning quickly when he thought he saw a movement in the shadows. Both men huddled closer together as their party leader, Mary Denkerry indicated the ivy clinging to the wall and suggested Markus Oddenburgh go first as he was the smallest and lightest of the five.

Shivering, the lightly built man began to climb the ivy covered wall, the others beginning their own climb as soon as the vegetation looked safe enough to hold their weights. Louis, last of the party, was just about to set foot to the lowest branch when Angela, a few feet above him suddenly let out a squeal of fright.

"What is it?" The question came from various shadows in the dark.

"I can't move my foot, my ankle is trapped between two branches," she muttered in disgust.

Huffing out a put-upon sigh, Louis moved to help free her ankle only to find the branch had somehow snagged his wrist. Tugging hard only seemed to tighten the woody hold on his flesh, and he hissed angrily. "This stuff is almost alive, it will snag you any way it can," he grumbled then stiffened as another branch very deliberately snaked out and wrapped around his waist. He let out a scream as he was dragged forward into the thick ivy, more branches winding around his torso as those already climbing were equally snared and pulled into the vegetation, the leaves covering their struggling, shrieking carcasses, branches invading their wide stretched mouths to smother their cries.

Five minutes later the thrashing disturbance had stopped and the ivy lay smooth and serene over the ancient stones, moving gently in the slight breeze that played over the glossy, extremely healthy growth of new leaves. All plants thrived on fresh blood and bone. Inside the castle, the five blips faded from the ward registry, no longer alive to become a threat to the castle's safety.

oo0oo

Moonrise was approaching, the werewolves gathered in the huge lecture hall put aside for their changes. Three smoking cauldrons stood on the teaching platform with a measured spoon to dole out the potion to each woman as she entered. There were three strengths of potion available, an eight-hour, sixteen-hour and twenty-four-hour strength, or at least, Snape was reasonably sure the differing strengths would give differing times, he hoped. Having the 'return to human' times staggered was Jonathon's idea, the majority of the changes to happen at the twenty-four-hour mark simply because he believed the worst of the fighting would occur on the first day. Whether he was right or not, no one knew, but they were willing to believe in him as he was the Alpha.

Most of the women were acting as if this was an exciting jaunt, laughing and giggling as they arranged themselves around the tiers of seating. One or two were apprehensive, but for the most part these were seasoned veteran werewolves who had changed many times as a pack and were confident that it would not be as bad as a group. Both Remus and Jonathon, as solitary males, were much quieter and more worried, both waiting silently before Lypy noticed and grabbed their arms, pulling them forward to join the naked, giggling group. Lypy was going to stay wolf for the full twenty-four hours, Remus for sixteen and Jonathon for eight hours so that the chain of command would not be broken. Once those who had changed back were recovered, they would return to the battle as humans if it was necessary.

Severus had wanted to be the one to serve his potion, but at the last minute fear had overcome his desire. Instead he had taken a long and heartfelt kiss from his werewolf, the implied promise of goodbye too poignant to be said aloud. Both men knew either one or both of them would not survive the battle, but neither said it in their last few moments together. Remus held those last lingering traces of Severus' scent close as they waited for the Mistress to come.

A pained howl from outside made them all stiffen, alerted to the fact that the moon had cleared the horizon. Jonathon nodded and smiled grimly as the first finger crept over the low windowsill to enter their room. One or two women seemed to move away from the silvery light, but the majority leaned into it, accepting and encouraging their transformation almost joyously. Jon and Remus shook hands then plunged forward into the glow, to the giggles of those capable of noticing. The werewolf forces for Hogwarts' defence were being activated.

oo0oo

Lurid hex light lit the horizon as the watchers on the roof looked toward Hogsmeade. An engagement was obviously being fought just over the brow of the hill. Harry moved fretfully then stiffened as Professor Dumbledore leaned forward, a smile lighting his old face. "There they go," he murmured, pointing slightly.

A faint wave of movement marked the massed pack as it skimmed over the short grass. They looked like liquid shadows as they moved silently, breaking into smaller groups to patrol the grounds, a larger group heading toward the fight.

"I wish we could go with them," Harry sighed as the werewolves disappeared over the hill.

"We have to stay here and wait until our resources can be used most effectively," Professor McGonagall reminded him slightly sourly; she too was impatient to 'get it over with'. "It's nice that Hogwarts manifested this useful set of battlements for us to watch from."

"Gives grandstanding a whole new meaning, doesn't it?" Hermione mentioned chattily, peering out between two authentic medieval crenulations. "Can we pour hot oil on anyone attempting to smash down the main doors?" she asked with academic curiosity.

There was a subdued chuckle then a thoughtful pause before Snape waved a hand and a cauldron appeared on the flagstones. "I can't see why not. Perhaps Incendio Solution would be more effective than oil," he mused, nodding when Minerva transfigured the water into the very volatile substance.

"That's the spirit, always thinking," Albus encouraged, his eyes still focussed on the horizon.

oo0oo

Scrimgeour knew he was outnumbered; even with the help of the Hogsmeade Militia there were not enough powerful or cunning wizards in the group to defeat the mixture of Death Eaters and trolls that were attacking his badly fortified position. Aberforth Dumbledore had been a tower of strength both magically and tactically as they fought off another troll, but the baying of the werewolves as soon as the moon rose made everyone cringe in horror. A wild burst of laughter came from the Death Eaters as the first of the wolves came bounding from the rear of their ranks, leaping high and long. Mid air, a second, lean grey body hit hard, cannoning the graceful shape sending them both snapping and snarling across no-man's-land in a bloodthirsty tangle. The flashing white teeth were the only discernable part of the mess until the two beasts sprang apart, circling with stiff legs and low held jaws.

Rufus nearly screamed when he realised there was a huge grey shape at his right shoulder, hot, foetid breath stirring the short hairs on his neck. Something slightly wet and limp was dropped on his hand and a long red tongue unrolled, making the beast look like it was laughing at him. An inch at a time, the Auror picked up the parchment and unrolled it, the note quite detailed.

'_To the commander under fire. Our werewolves are wolfsbaned and can understand you. They have orders to support your troops and patrol the grounds. You can recognise our werewolves by the line of phosphorescence down their backs from nose to tail. There will be a surprise at moonset so do not worry and good luck! _

_Yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore'_

"Sneaky little fellow, that brother of mine, isn't he?" Aberforth remarked, sending a hex winging out. "So, how do we want to deploy the werewolves?"

The large golden beast beside him yipped and four more werewolves slammed into the Death Eaters' lines, slashing their jaws and ripping anything they managed to get their teeth or claws into. Terrified, the Death Eaters began to Apparate out, leaving the trolls to cope with the slashing, ripping death, the defenders cheering slightly as they were relieved.

Teams of five werewolves attacked each troll, nipping and shoulder-charging at their legs in an attempt to bring them down. A lithe grey body got too close to a swinging club and yelped as ribs crunched, tumbling through the air to lay still. Suddenly the werewolves were no longer playing, fast and deadly efficient as they circled and harried their prey. The Aurors were wondering what to do about the fallen werewolf when the troll went down and disappeared under the weight of fur and teeth. Horrified, the defenders watched as the werewolves literally gnawed the troll's head off after tearing out its throat. One of them rolled the head well away from the body then howled a long and undulating note before they approached their fallen comrade.

A black wolf lay down beside the injured grey, licking the blood from her snout and whining deep in her throat until the grey wolf's ragged breathing stopped rattling. Slowly, the wolf body shifted, revealing a well built human female with a horrendously caved-in ribcage, the broken ends of ribs sticking through the skin. Even as the humans approached the black wolf stood up and with a swift crunch of her jaws, she severed the head from the neck and rolled it away with a single bat of her forepaw. Head thrown back she howled long and hard before snarling once at the audience then fleeing into the night. The wolf by Scrimgeour made him stagger as he tried to turn his wand on the fleeing figure, a low growl sending shivers down the listeners' spines.

"Why? Why remove the heads?" Aberforth mused then blanched enough to be seen even in the moonlight. "Oh Merlin protect us! _Inferi_! They are guarding against _Inferi_."

"What? But, but … fucking hell! That's all we needed!" Scrimgeour snarled bitterly, surveying their own casualties in horror. He had fought against _Inferi_ in the first war and had no wish to ever do that again. Swallowing sickly, he nodded to Aberforth and gave the order to behead the dead, the wolf at his side nodding slowly and distinctly before it too disappeared into the night. "Right, let's move further onto the grounds. Be careful, people, we don't want to kill the wrong troops."

oo0oo

Small groups of werewolves patrolled the grounds, attacking anything they didn't recognise as their own. All had lost friends and relations in the earlier attacks and mass slaughters of werewolves, and all had revenge on their minds. One small group found a French werewolf near the edge of the courtyard creeping up on the main wall and the watchers on the battlements were treated to a display of sheer ferocity that left many of them shaken to their cores. All that remained of the large male were a few bloody scraps of fur, not even enough for the man to revert to his human form in death. Snape clicked his tongue in disgust to see all that perfectly good potions material going to waste, but a few surreptitious _accio_ spells rescued some flesh, bones and fur, also a little blood which he smugly bottled. Hermione snorted and cast her own _accio_, presenting the Potions Master with a full set of teeth and jaws, a self-satisfied grin of her own making him curl his lip at her, but he did not disdain her gift.

Fretfully, Harry raised the omnioculars to study a large looming shadow in the distance and swore fluently when he realised he was seeing a giant moving through the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Only Draco's hand on his arm stopped him dashing off on a hair brained suicide mission, the blond shaking his head and beckoning Weasley. All three students quietly left their elders to watch the darkness shadowed battle as they moved back into the castle.

"We need to think seriously about rounding up the various Dark Lord supporters here in the castle," Draco told them as they entered the Great Hall once again. "I would suggest we use the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw contingents of our trainee Auror group to do that as they are less likely to be attacked just on the suspicion they might be up to something."

"Good point," Ron conceded, scratching his head thoughtfully. "I think dawn would be the best, psychologically significant time, don't you think?

"Yes, good point, and we can use that idiotic Ravenclaw, Loomis, to assist our people. He wants to make a name for himself so he may as well be useful," Draco muttered sourly as they set off for the Great Hall where food and drink were laid on for what may be the long siege.

oo0oo

The Inner Circle moved restlessly as the lesser troops and their 'handlers' Apparated out to take up the battle at Hogwarts. Lord Voldemort sat on his throne, surveying those of his people who were tested and true, the real Death Eaters. This inner core had killed for him, had tortured and murdered and sweated for him, their belief in him lasting for over twenty years and their loyalty had been proven again and again. Bella and her husband were almost frenetic as they bounced on their toes and giggled, pushing and poking at each other and those around them. The Malfoys were seated quietly at a table, each sipping delicately at a glass of wine, as if they were awaiting the beginning of a formal reception, always the aristocrats, damn them.

Crabbe and Goyle stood behind them, stalwart bulwarks against the intrusion of mad Bella and her retinue. Azkaban had not been kind to a number of the Inner Circle, but by the end of the day his ideology would have triumphed over the pathetic forces of so called Light, impotent posers led by an old man and a child! He caressed the smoothly rounded stone of his new throne's arms, feeling the contained power within the chair. This was his seat of power in every sense, the Elemental forces dwelling within its confines -- his to command and deploy as he willed, to the complete annihilation of Dumbledore and the rest of his pathetic crew. Now was the time of _his_ triumph, now the Dark Mark would fly proudly over Hogwarts and all would tremble beneath his heel. His dreams of power exalted him as his impatient troops waited for his command.


	44. Comes the Dawning

Chapter 43 – Comes the Dawning

**Chapter 43** – _Comes the Dawning_

**Warnings: Character death, blood and gore.**

With werewolves on both sides patrolling the grounds, the hours of darkness had been noisy and bloody. Individual skirmishes between werewolf factions or trolls and werewolves had been short and messy resulting in some horrendous wounds. Teams of Order Members and some students had crept out under the cover of darkness to retrieve their wounded, the phosphorescent stripes on their werewolves making them easy to recognise. Casualties were not heavy but the death toll was rising as the savage encounters rarely left wounded behind. The wounded were ferried into the infirmary for Madam Pomfrey to treat as best she could, the werewolf metabolism coming to their aid in the rapid healing of even the most horrendous wounds. The dead of both sides were decapitated and left where they lay as there was no time to treat them with anything approaching dignity as the skirmishes continued all around them.

As moonset came closer the Dark wolves began to withdraw, the Light wolves also drawing closer to the castle wall. In the antediluvian darkness a few cries of pain came from the Forbidden Forest's margins heralding the transformation from wild killing machines to human once again, the watchers shivering on the wall. Below, the Light werewolves glanced at each other, one or two twitching as ghost pain tugged their nerves and sinews but the change did not arrive, the wolves retaining their shape and deadliness. Moony raised his head and chuffed enquiringly, the old grey Alpha yipping agreement and the first contingent of the werewolves streaked off, back into the forest with deadly intent just as the first fingers of dawn lightened the skies. While they could not turn werewolves, they could certainly injure or kill them while they were still exhausted and vulnerable after their transformation. It was not fair but it was expedient, and in this very real battle for survival, fair was a very early casualty.

"Well, that worked," Snape remarked quietly as he watched the wolves disappear, then stiffened and pointed as the first of the mixed trolls and giants began the assault. The battle was on!

oo0oo

Terry Boot knew he was a dead man. He had come out as part of a patrol to collect two injured werewolves, but a party of Death Eaters had ambushed them. The others had got away when Terry set up a withering wall of hexes and jinxes to cover their retreat, but that left him out in the open with nowhere else to go. The hedge he had slid behind was no real barrier to the ugly curses the remaining three Death Eaters were firing at him, more a sop to his intellect which was screaming at him to get the hell out of there immediately! He was a Ravenclaw not a bloody Gryffindor, and what the hell did he think he was doing?

He spotted some cover over by a large rock formation partially disguised by the bindweed growing over it and made a run for the new cover. The jeers and taunts of the Death Eaters were getting closer, and the hexes were more playful as he ran like the proverbial rabbit. As he almost made the cover a tangling hex caught his ankles and he measured his length on the short springy grass, banging his chin on a chunk of granite. He was dead; he knew he was dead, or worse, caught! Feet pounded up and the three Death Eaters panted as they laughed, one kicking him over onto his back.

"Caught you now, little boy," a female voice said with manic cheerfulness as the three wands pointed at his prone and winded body. A curse hit him and he screamed, arching high as his bones seemed to try to escape from his skin. He wasn't sure how long the curse lasted, but it seemed like hours before he was allowed to slump, panting and whimpering, back onto the grass. Terry kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the gloating faces of his captors, then snapped them open as screams rang out; not his this time, he noted almost clinically. Lean grey and sandy coloured bodies were arching over his, werewolves coming from nowhere to tear out throats and snap off hands before hexes could do him further harm.

He struggled up into a sitting position and shook his head to clear the stars, the large black leader of the pack sitting in front of him and licking the blood off her muzzle before her tail slapped once. "Thanks," Terry muttered, tentatively reaching out a shaking hand to brush his knuckles over her shoulder. She leaned into the touch and wagged her tail harder before nosing him solidly until he used her shoulder to lever his protesting carcass up. "What now? Back to the castle?" he asked, but the wolf didn't seem too keen on that idea. "Or do you fancy some more Death Eater baiting?" he asked, something wild and exhilarated welling through his usually sedate and well controlled soul.

The wolf chuffed and wagged her tail madly, the rest of her group jumping to their feet and almost dancing on the spot in eager assent. Terry giggled, rubbing the blood off his chin and taking a firmer grip of his wand as the circulation returned to his extremities. "Let's do it," he agreed recklessly, and they were off again.

oo0oo

Neville and Luna shared a bowl of muesli for breakfast, adding fresh strawberries straight off the runner as they sat behind the palisade of potting benches. Professor Sprout passed a couple of mugs of tea over with a grin, and they continued to share their breakfast as they waited to see if anyone was going to try and take the greenhouses. The waiting was the worst part of any engagement, the troops were finding. Waiting behind their bulwarks and listening to the screams and cries that punctured the silence of the grounds at odd intervals. Once they all became hyper alert as a party of Death Eaters and a Giant lumbered past their hiding places, a fast moving pack of wolves hard on their trail. None of that mobile combat engagement even looked toward the tense row of heads on the barriers defending the greenhouses as they concentrated on their own battle.

Over on the left hand side of the barrier, nearest the school walls, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were playing the 'I Spy' game to pass the time. Lavender was stuck on something beginning with 'F' when the first curse slammed into the bench peppering the defenders with stone chips. A second curse burned a blackened swatch over the grey stone but caused little damage except to leave a fine grey fog over the area.

Luna screamed and jumped, the muesli bowl going straight up, to be shattered by a lurid red hex that flew overhead. She and Neville giggled reflexively as they were showered with cereal and milk, but both turned immediately to survey the oncoming attack force from their hidden peepholes. At least twenty Death Eaters, if not more - some well dressed, some wearing the ragged remains of Azkaban uniforms - were advancing on their position from the left, using the remains of the vegetation as scant cover. A second party was zigzagging their way from the Forbidden Forest, herding two trolls in their direction. As soon as the trolls met the outlying glasshouses their clubs began to mow a swathe of destruction through the fragile structures.

Neville sent a simple growing spell out towards the Venomous Tentacula and smiled in satisfaction as the plant attacked the nearest enemy with mindless ferocity. Who said Herbology was a useless sport? The Death Eaters were definitely slowed down but only the Devil's Snare seemed to be any use against the trolls and that was not much at all. The sunlight was causing it to wither and withdraw into the shade of the walls. Bubotubers had been used to mine the paths and beds, anyone standing on them was instantly covered in a thick layer of the sap. The unrefined sap raised some nasty, painful boils which of course made concentrating on spells and hexes very difficult, as more than one Death Eater found out to their shock. Fanged geraniums were more of a nuisance than a deterrent, but each diversion did its part, allowing the defenders to ready their spells and prepare for real war.

There had been quite some argument about allowing children to defend one of the most vulnerable places in the castle, but the trainee Aurors proved to be better trained than quite a number of the Order members so that spurious argument was shot down successfully. Besides, if they were in any way honest with themselves, there weren't enough adults to defend the castle anyway and the use of the younger members was vital, not a luxury. On the outer palisades, the older members of the Order were being mowed down like wheat as the trolls used their clubs to comprehensively smash anything in their path without fear or favour.

Luna saw a black-clad Death Eater smashed in two as easily as an Order member before she had to duck back behind her protective bench. That momentary lapse of concentration caused by surprise proved to be her undoing, an un-noticed hex slamming against the far wall and ricocheting into their foxhole. It caved in the _protego_ shields they had raised to protect their rear and slammed into Luna. The hex wrapped around her, crumbling and crushing, then a secondary function began to dissolve the flesh from her bones. She did not even have a chance to shriek before the pain was gone, her lower spine and pelvis crushed and destroyed, leaving her stunned and disbelieving. Neville stared at her, his fear and love in his eyes, but there was nothing to be done, they both knew. Luna was mortally wounded, a slow mortality, obviously, but still fatal in the long run. Neville bent forward and kissed her passionately before turning away to concentrate on the loophole, firing with a renewed determination and hate.

Spells and hexes were slashing overhead, the light turning murky and making concentration difficult as it changed from vomit yellow to passion purple in an instant. Screams and cries of pain rang out from both sides of the conflict as spells or hexes, exploded, cut or simply dissolved flesh from bones or bones from the living. No one was safe, vapours and splinters adding their own measures of confusion to the mixed and fog shrouded melee. The cacophony of noise was as much a weapon as the light and the smells and the bone freezing terror.

Neville blinked hard when a particularly virulent flash left afterimages in his eyeballs. He was half blinded and did not see the slashing curse that lifted his scalp, making him fly sideways and slam into the crushed gravel path. A Death Eater took advantage of his uncovered state and sent a curse arrowing into his back. Luna snagged a handful of robes and dragged her prone fiancé aside as the follow-up curse hit, totally caving in his chest and spine. Neville screamed as the bones splintered, this injury painful and probably fatal. Fortunately, he seemed to lose consciousness in an instant.

Luna stared down dispassionately then cast a blood clotting charm and a pain relieving charm over the mess. She knew he was finished unless the attackers fell back immediately; his wounds were too grave to allow him to be moved. Making sure he was well covered by the stone palisade she sent her own particularly off-beat form of hexes out toward the Death Eaters. Her extensive injuries didn't hurt in the slightest, her back broken, her spine severed and her legs now totally vaporised by the acid etching spell that had continued to dissolve the stones below her. Still, there were worse ways to go, and she still had enough magic left to make a fair fight of it, although she knew her strength was waning rapidly.

Pomona Sprout squeaked in anguish as her favourite student was mortally wounded; her determination to defend the greenhouses was beginning to look like a very bad decision on her part. Was the contribution of the area worth all the lives it had cost so far? Despite the cost, its safety was still not assured. All around them, the defenders were taking heavy casualties while more and more Death Eaters seemed to pop up out of the wood work to replace the injured on their side. A group of fourth-years crawled out and began dragging the wounded defenders back toward the castle but too many of them were taking fire and becoming casualties themselves. They were losing this encounter, and it was time for hard decisions. Professor Sprout looked around at the injured and dying and made the call she hated to have to make.

"Fall back, people, fall back and…." A slashing curse cut her head from her body mid-sentence, the defenders wailing as she slumped down.

"If you can fall back, do it," Luna yelled, sending a slashing curse to remove a Death Eater's leg when it was not pulled in far enough. "Lavender, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not badly hurt, but Parvati has … gone," came the tear-laden reply.

"So has Neville. Get back inside and bring down the wall, that's an order, you understand?"

There was a gasp and a few stealthy scrambling noises as Luna continued to blast away at the attackers.

"What about you, Luna?" Lavender's small whisper sounded too loud despite the scream of hexes and jinxes overhead.

There was a distinct pause then a choked giggle. "I'm only half the girl I used to be, Lav, the rest of me has gone to vapour. Just get inside and bring down the wall, you hear?"

"I hear and understand. Good luck."

Luna looked down to where her legs had been for the last seventeen years then shrugged. It had been fun but nothing was forever, was it? She gathered the last of her strength and set a timed detonation spell. When the Death Eaters came to check on her and Neville, there would still be a few surprises to be had.

oo0oo

"We have to strike now. You can hear the sounds of battle out there, if we strike now we can turn the tide into our favour," Jud Longleat muttered grimly as he surveyed the rest of the Junior Death Eaters as they met once again in an abandoned classroom.

"We have to make our strike count," Pansy snapped back furiously. "Look, break up into pairs and threes, each of you take on the target of choice. If we wait for Draco's word, the war will be over before we even get to lift a finger."

"Do you think Draco's, well, changed his mind?" someone asked from the back of the room.

Pansy turned on the speaker with a hissed curse that made the girl's hair fall out. "Draco would never betray us, never!" she snapped angrily, gathering Goyle up with a glance. "We are going to open the small personnel door near the Quidditch pitch and let as many people in as we can. The rest of you spread out and cause havoc where you can. Come on, Greg, let's go!" The pair slipped out leaving the rest milling uncertainly in their wake.

"I think she's right, we had better see what we can do to help the cause," Romeo Zabini murmured to his brother Blaise, reaching for the door latch. It bit him. "Ouch! What the hell?"

"Sorry, children, we can't allow random acts of terrorism in the castle, so you lot just stay there and twiddle your thumbs, we'll let you out when the Aurors have time to deal with you," a muffled voice snapped gleefully through the keyhole before a silencing spell was erected from the outside. No matter how hard they pounded, what spell they used, the door remained solid and immovable for the rest of the engagement.

oo0oo

The thunderous crashing and crunching of stone made the whole castle shudder and jump. On the battlements Professor Dumbledore closed his eyes, McGonagall gripping his elbow as he swiftly wove wards over the solid stone wall where a few moments ago there were corridors and people and access.

"The greenhouses have fallen, but the inner walls have been put into place," he told them when concerned queries finally penetrated his concentration. "We have taken heavy casualties and lost a number of invaluable people during the defence. Someone will have to go collect a report soon, I assume, we will have to send a runner as I doubt they will have any joy to generate a Patronus or anyone physically to spare. Do we have a runner?"

"Yes, Sir, Michael Bones, Sir, Hufflepuff fourth-year," a small voice said fearfully and a hand waved uncertainly.

"Very good, Michael, run down to the greenhouse and see what you can see then cut along to Madam Pomfrey and give her a report on the casualties before coming back here to report. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Sir," he said clearly and ran.

Harry punched the wall, skinning his knuckles and little else. "Why doesn't the Dark Monster get here? Why are we just standing around waiting while our friends are being killed all around us? What can we do?" he demanded of no one in particular.

Hermione shook her head slowly and cast a healing charm over his skinned knuckles almost absentmindedly. "We are waiting because you need to be ready and able to kill the bastard when he arrives, not injured and diminished in some small, insignificant skirmish," she said harshly. "Sometimes the waiting is the hardest thing to do, but it has to be endured or we all fail and die."

"Been taking lessons from Malfoy?" Ron jibed almost by rote and nearly had his head removed for his cheek.

"And if I have? About time someone sensible was included in this idiotic mess. When it comes time to fight, will _you _be ready?"

Ron glared at his long time friend then nodded tightly. "Oh yes, to the death if necessary," he promised solemnly, all three of them nodding sharp agreement.


	45. Comes the Hosts Gathering

Chapter 44 – Comes the Hosts, Gathering

**Chapter 44** – _Comes the Hosts, Gathering_

**Warnings: Character death, blood and gore.**

The _Inferi_ crawled across the lake bottom, mer-people bodies floating to the surface of the lake. A single Giant Squid tentacle floated up too, limp and lifeless. Dean and Seamus had their backs to the wall and their wands out ready as the first of the pale, dead heads crushed against the warding wall that dipped down into the water. They did not expect to have to do anything but watch and wait; the wards as heavy and as firm as the headmaster had been able to make them.

"Why don't they stop?" Dean finally asked in shocked horror as body upon body was crushed and broken by sheer weight of numbers.

"Because they are dead and have only one order to follow, probably something like, 'go forward and destroy'. So that's what they do, just keep coming forward, the ones at the back never realising there is a barrier and never stopping."

"But that's stupid," the dark youth remarked, shaking his head.

"They're dead, Dean, they don't have a brain, only the magic animating them," Seamus said in exasperation them both young men stiffened. "Oh God, is that Neville and Luna? Holy Mary, Mother of God!"

"What do we do? What do we do?" Dean mewled, staring in horror as their two dead friends began to dig and claw at the barrier, setting the rest of the _Inferi_ off too.

"Pray to God and Merlin that they don't dig their way under the barrier before reinforcements get here," Seamus growled and shot a bolt of fire at the nearest digger.

A cloud of steam boiled away, the _inferi_ unhurt by the hex. The hole they were digging got deeper as the sandy bottom of the cove was excavated away. Dean frowned then shuddered as the ward seemed to bulge and flex under the terrible pressure of the bodies behind it. The crushed mass of bodies was now over six feet deep, the lower ones unable to move under the sheer weight of numbers. Seamus launched another hex which sent a shiver through the warding wall and another boil of steam to obscure the view.

"You know, Seamus, I don't think you should do…"

The ward broke with a scream, the bodies tumbling forward and slamming into the duo, sweeping Dean off his feet and tossing Seamus against the far wall. Dean screamed as the dead tore him apart, unable to get his wand out under the crush. Seamus let out a scream of pure anguish and blasted random fire across the writhing tangle of limbs before he caught his senses and set up a wall of flame to drive the dead away. Again and again the bodies lurched into the flames, setting themselves and their rags of clothing alight. It did not stop or even deter their determination to drag the living down into their shared death and Seamus was losing strength. When he saw Dean emerge from the crowd and throw himself into the flames all hope died. There was no retreat, no reprieve and no recourse. Screaming his loss to the world, Seamus cast the Immolation Spell on himself and plunged into the mass.

oo0oo

Pansy and Goyle strode along the corridors of the school, blatant in their intent to do harm. This was their moment of triumph; this was their hour of glory. Their Lord was coming and their parents would be so proud of them! At the junction of the Great Hall and the upper reaches, Pansy called a halt and motioned for Goyle to listen carefully.

"I am going to deal with that bitch, Granger; I want you to go to the hospital wing and take out Madam Pomfrey. Without their medi-witch they are going to be stuffed. As soon as you have done that, meet me at the side door and we'll open the wards. If you aren't there in twenty minutes, then I will do it without you and the same for you, okay?"

Goyle thought about it for a few moments then nodded ponderously. "Kill Madam Pomfrey, then meet you at the door in twenty minutes, yes." He moved off in the right direction while Pansy slipped into the Great Hall, hugging the shadows behind the staff table.

There were others already eating and drinking, trays of food laid out on the Ravenclaw table. What looked like a pile of fur near the far door turned out to be a sleeping werewolf, a white bandage across its furred ribcage. Pansy wondered briefly what that was doing in the Great Hall instead of the infirmary, but her attention was diverted by a slight disturbance near the far doors. She spotted a head of silver blond hair in the hallway beyond the doors and slid along the wall, into a recess containing a suit of armour to spy on Malfoy.

He glanced up a stairway Pansy hadn't noticed before, a smile of pure love creasing his face as he held out a hand. Warmth suffused Pansy until she realised he was not looking at her but at … Granger! Rage made Parkinson's teeth grind together as the Gryffindork slid her arms around Malfoy's waist, laying her head on his chest. Even worse, Malfoy bent his head and buried his nose in her hair. The tableau held for a few moments, then Malfoy drew back just a little to stare down at the ugly little bitch.

"It's nearly time, love, I can feel him getting closer and I want you and the next generation to stay safe. Remember, if it all goes to hell in a hand-basket, just go, okay, preserve the little one at all costs."

"Stop worrying about us, we'll do fine. I am going to help in the Infirmary so there's not much chance of harm there, we'll be safe," she assured Draco, claiming another light kiss. "You take care, I don't want to lose you, I'm not cut out for single motherhood, I swear."

Draco half laughed as he kissed her soundly again and left her in the hallway to bound up the stairs. Hermione watched him go then set off with her head held high, a determined stride taking her off to her new post. They had agreed that, if it was possible, one of them would not go into battle but at least try to preserve one parent to raise Lysander. Hermione had drawn the short straw for the final battle, or at least the Battle of Hogwarts. She was so deep in her thoughts she failed to hear the step behind her until a spell slammed into her back and she almost head-butted the wall as she lost her balance.

"You bitch, you sleazy, conniving, underhanded whore! How dare you corrupt the Malfoys by allowing your spawn to fester and blackmail him with it?"

Hermione knew the voice, was half up onto her knees, a _protego_ almost shielding her when another spell hit her low in the belly, causing her elbows to buckle and her knees to tremble. Whatever Parkinson had hit her with was making her feel very ill and cramped. She must have mumbled something because Parkinson was laughing now, a slightly hysterical laugh that reminded Hermione of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"It's the Slytherin version of the Conceptus Charm, we call it the Morning After Spell, it aborts any little inconvenience up to two months after the conception. It gives you a margin just in case the papa can be blackmailed into offering a contract," Pansy said chattily as she watched the other girl flounder into a sitting position on the floor. "If you were more than two months gone, whoops, sor-ry, it can get extremely painful."

Parkinson was a gloater, Hermione realised, useful if you wanted to gain a few minutes grace. "What-what makes you think I'm pregnant?" she asked, clutching her abdomen as a cramp nearly tore it in half.

"That was a touching goodbye to MY BOYFRIEND," Pansy screeched, sending C_rucio_ at the girl, not exactly a full version of the curse but enough to make Hermione writhe when added to her cramping. Not satisfied, Pansy sent another blast of the curse then grinned evilly. She had read a spell in an old book her mother had given her many years ago and had always wanted to try it. She was half way through the chant when Granger managed to get her wand out and cast a weak _Expelliarmus_ at her, just enough to make Pansy stagger, her spell leaving her wand before it was quite completed.

Hermione let out a mighty groan as she was slammed back onto the flagstones, her consciousness fleeing from the spell and the blow. Parkinson caught her balance and hurried over, kicking Granger in the ribs but there was no response, she was out cold and not breathing. Pansy cackled, giving the corpse another kick for good measure before hurrying on to the rendezvous point. Behind her, on the floor, Hermione took a very long, slow breath, once every minute, no more, no less.

oo0oo

Goyle stood in the doorway of the infirmary watching the hustle and bustle before him. There were people and werewolves, lots and lots of werewolves in the ward. Two, sometimes three werewolves shared a bed and even more lay curled up on the floor under the beds in a sort of cave. Kids, the fourth-years who hadn't been able to Floo out, were helping with the injured, holding bowls and giving patients drinks. There had never been as many people crammed into the infirmary at one time, as far as Goyle knew.

At the heart of the bustle Madam Pomfrey was tending a bloody wreck of a foreleg on one of the werewolves, her wand flashing as she cast spell after spell on the wound. The wizard beside her was also casting spells, a red haired woman taking things away and hurrying to bring things over as they worked. Finally the bleeding stopped and the flesh and fur began to grow over the wound in a smooth grey tide. Madam Pomfrey slumped a little and turned away only to spot the large boy standing in the doorway. She hurried over.

"Mr Goyle, are you hurt?" she asked in concern as she did a quick visual survey of the seventh year.

"No Madam, I'm fine, I just have to … Pansy told me to … that is, kill you," he stammered, taking out his wand. "Sorry."

"Pansy Parkinson? Now why would she tell you to do a silly thing like that? Can't you see we have a lot of wounded to attend to here?" Poppy asked cajolingly, not liking the look in the boy's eyes, they were glazing over. All around the ward, people stopped to listen; suddenly realising there was a problem.

"I know, but Pansy said I had to 'cus Draco wasn't about to give the orders. I think he defected to the Light. My father said I wouldn't have the resolve to cast the killing curse, that I was too soft to be effective, but I think he meant too stupid. So he had the Dark Lord give me a bit of a help, you know, soon as I have to do it, I would just be able to. So, I'm sorry, you've always been good to me, but…" He raised his wand and spoke the words with awful deliberation.

Poppy suddenly found herself spun around on the spot, the green light making her feel sick, a heavy weight knocking her off her feet. Someone cried out in horror and another curse slashed overhead, another dull thud of a body hitting the ground. The whole castle shook as if something very heavy had struck it a single blow, the impact making the flagstones dance under their feet. Molly appeared in her field of vision pulling the weight off her and crying silently as she helped haul the mediwitch to her feet. "What hap… Oh no! Roger!"

"He took the curse for you," Molly muttered, her arm around the woman's shoulders as a couple of kids hurried over to carry Goyle's unconscious body to a side room on her signal. When they had time they would have to ask someone to come and take the boy away, probably to Azkaban. Another pair came over and hovered for a second, wondering if they should take the dead mediwizard away too, but Poppy wasn't done. Bending swiftly, she closed his eyes and kissed his forehead gently before they were allowed to take him, shock still very much cocooning her in its comforting shell. Roger had always been a good friend to her, a link to her dead husband and daughter, the last link to her youth and love. And now he was gone, unbelievable!

Molly nodded knowingly and steered her friend over to the next patient. Sometimes hard work was the only way to cope with the grief when it was so raw and vital. Other wands in the hospital ward were carefully put away as the two women went back to their life saving tasks.

oo0oo

The headmaster staggered and slumped to the ground, clutching his chest and panting as if he had run a long way. Minerva McGonagall gave a small cry and knelt at his side, an arm around his shoulder. Snape knelt on the other side and poured a few drops of potion into his gasping mouth. The old man coughed and shuddered but finally sat up under his own power, a lone tear falling onto his cheek. "Roger was just killed," he murmured brokenly, Minerva gasping and shaking her head slightly. "Oh, my son, so…"

"Headmaster, the wards are down!" Harry yelped as the slight sparkle on the very edge of Hogwarts land suddenly went out and black clad figures began to move forward, their battle with the red clad opponents becoming a running one.

"Damn, that's torn it, time for us to go down and…" The rest of the sentence was lost as the Order members moved out, ready to join the battle right in front of the school.

Harry went to follow but an old hand clamped on his arm, holding him in position. "Not yet, Harry, not yet," the headmaster said, carefully climbing back to his feet again.

"Why?" Harry cried, trying to pull away but the older wizard was stronger than he looked.

"Because it is not your turn yet, this is but the opening salvo in the battle, the main event has not even begun, and you must conserve your strength for your meeting with Tom, whether it is today or tomorrow or next week even, you must be strong and ready to face him when he comes!"

"In the meantime my friends are getting mowed down like old grass?" he snarled bitterly, shaking off the hand but not leaving the balcony.

"Even so. It is the hardest thing you will have to do, my boy, the very hardest."

Harry glared at him but didn't argue the point as he went back to his peephole through the crenulations, beating his fist gently but constantly against the cold, hard stone.

oo0oo

When the Hogwarts wards went down the militia from Hogsmeade nearly broke and ran, but the Auror contingent and Aberforth Dumbledore's strength of personality held the line. The Death Eaters faltered for a moment then realise they had the opportunity to advance on their original target. Half the force Apparated forward over the holding line, the rest continued to hold the militia for a few more moments before their comrades were firmly in position, then they too Apparated out.

The militia slumped against their hastily raised fortifications before Aberforth reminded them that it was not over yet, rallying their flagging sprits once again. Tired, hungry and footsore, the militia gathered their reserves and set off after the Death Eaters who were beginning to engage the fresh forces of the Order of the Phoenix in the inner gardens of Hogwarts.

Rufus Scrimgeour did a visual check of his people and nodded grimly. Singling out one of the youngest graduates still left on her feet, he sent Merrilie Winters to Apparate back to headquarters and raise the next wave of Aurors. They would need the reinforcements as soon as possible and not by tomorrow as he had thought.

The girl took his written order and requests to the Minister, stuck them inside her robes and Apparated out with barely a salute. Kingsley Shacklebolt moved up next to his commander and asked what they were up to next. Scrimgeour snorted in grim amusement.

"Let's see if we can dispose of some more of these masked clowns before they infest Hogwarts any worse than they already have."

"Don't you mean invest," a smart arse asked from the centre of the tired crowd.

"Nah, I think infest does it for me," Scrimgeour replied with a tired grin. "Let's do this people."

They moved out cautiously.

oo0oo

Terry Boot was down to one werewolf. Black Bess, as he had christened her, was limping as heavily as was he. They had fought trolls time and again, taken out untold numbers of enemy werewolves and even a couple of the less wary Death Eaters, but now they were tired and at the end of their stamina. Which was why, he supposed, they made a mistake. The troll they had picked up a few hundred metres into the grounds seemed to be the Einstein of trolls, and as tenacious on their trail as a bloodhound.

Bess had nipped his heels until they bled, and been clipped by a foot in the process, hence the limp. Terry had cast _Stupefy_ so many times his voice was getting hoarse but nothing affected the huge, shambling hulk. If they had not been so tired they could probably have outrun the creature, but they had both had enough, too much, really. Terry stumbled again and Bess ran into his legs, lost her footing and landed a paw on a discarded blade, slicing the pad wide open. She yelped trying to limp on two legs, slowing them both just enough that the troll managed to take another swing at her. Terry threw his weight onto her back, slamming her into the dirt and covering her body with his as another troll approached from the opposite direction, both creatures raising their clubs to beat the pair to death. Incapacitated and incapable of doing anything to save themselves, wolf and man waited for death that didn't come.

There was a surprised troll grunt then a double thump, and Terry raised his head just enough to see hooves in front of his nose. Strong hands reached down and lifted him as easily as if he was a child, settling him on a broad, horse-smelling back covered in rich chestnut hair.

A second centaur lifted Black Bess and draped her across the withers in front of Terry and a deeply amused voice murmured that he should hold onto his puppy. Stunned and disbelieving, Terry did as he was told and the centaur he was riding turned carefully to slip between the trees of the Forbidden Forest and out of sight. The rest of the Centaur herd hovered on the edge of the tree-line, shooting at any black cloaks that got too close to their home now that the ancient wards were down.


	46. Engagements, Great and Small

Chapter 45 – Engagements, Great and Small

**Chapter 45** – _Engagements, Great and Small_

**Warnings: Character death, blood and gore.**

The Inner Circle arrived well spread-out and ready to fight for their lives and their Lord. Each had their wand out and a curse on their lips as they spun on the spot, doing a quick reconnoitre of the area they had landed in, shooting off curses if any of the enemy troops were too close. They all noticed that their Lord's Throne had not arrived as yet, but their attention was quickly engaged by the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix and their mixed allies -- both Aurors and ordinary wizards. One of the most prominent by his omission was Harry Potter who was nowhere to be seen, much to everyone's disappointment.

Bellatrix Lestrange turned around again, casting random hexes at anyone in her vicinity, searching for an opponent worthy of her talents and her notice. A head of bright pink hair caught her eye, and she giggled wildly as she loped across the field, ignoring the fighting around her as she zeroed in on her chosen target.

Tonks cast an overhand whipping spell and neatly removed the Death Eater from the argument, removing his eyes at the same time. He shrieked in agony as his eyeballs exploded, groping blindly, horror written on his face. Tonks shook her head and moved away, wincing as her victim fell afoul of a stray hex. Being blinded on the battlefield was not a good fate. She managed to take a sip of the fortifying potion she kept in a hip flask before the hairs on her neck stood straight up. The insane giggle was her only real clue, and then her Aunt Bella was there in front of her in all her tattered glory.

"If it isn't little Nymphadora, how you have grown, child? How is that mudblood father of yours? Dead, I hope."

Tonks shrugged, her wand clenched tightly in her hand. "Dad is a Muggle, not magical at all, Aunt Bella," she said with a slight smirk, allowing her features to flow into their natural shape as she did not have magic to waste in this encounter.

"Why, Child, you look just like Mama!" Bellatrix exclaimed in genuine surprise.

"No need to be insulting," Tonks replied, her smirk widening as Bella seemed to be put a little off-balance by the family resemblance. "I had heard that Grandmother Black was a complete bitch, a bit like you really."

Bella threw her head back and roared laughing, countering the cutting hex Tonks threw and using a whip spell of her own. The pure magic lash curled around Tonks' shield but did not hit her skin; instead it pulled her off-balance. Always a little clumsy, Tonks fell but rolled handily, coming up with a Jelly Legs jinx closely followed by _Sectumsempra_. Bellatrix hissed angrily as he legs collapsed and the cutting hex opened a shallow gash in her arm. The sight of her own blood seemed to drive Bella to new heights of madness, the curses and hexes no longer accompanied by a stream of inane chatter. Tonks had been fighting for the last four hours and her exhausted state was no match for her mad aunt. She held her own for almost ten minutes when a stray _Stupefy_ from someone else's battle caught her in the back of the head and Tonks went down.

Bella pounced like a cat on a mouse, her wand tip grinding into Tonks' throat as she gloated for a moment. "Say good night, sweetie," she giggled as she cast _Crucio_ on her niece. Tonks arched in agony but it only lasted as long as it took to say _Avada Kedavra_ and then she was gone.

oo0oo

Lucius and Narcissa nodded to each other as they split up; there were a few people they both wanted to deal with personally before their Lord joined the battle. Lucius conserved his strength as the people he really wanted would be hard to deal with. He surveyed the battlefield and grinned tigerishly as he spotted a head of grey hair to his left. Alastor Moody had been a pain in his side for more years than he wanted to think about, and he planned to take some repayment for the suffering the old Auror had caused him over the years, especially for his incarceration in Azkaban.

Alastor was pitted against a black wizard who seemed shocked that the skinny old man had not fallen to his superior power as yet. The old Auror continued to play with the contemptible young pup until he saw Malfoy creeping up on his back with his wand drawn. Moving with an agility that belied a wooden leg, Alastor jumped out of the way of his opponent's curse, allowing it to go over his shoulder and cause Lucius some inconvenience as it whizzed over his head. Cackling wildly, Alastor put pay to his current foe and turned to meet Malfoy head-on in what he hoped would be a decisive victory for the Light.

"Still have to creep up like an assassin in the night then, Malfoy?" he taunted, weaving a figure of eight pattern with his wand tip.

"Merely awaiting a moment of your time," Lucius sniffed disparagingly. "After all, I didn't want to cut in on your last partner; you were having such fun with him."

Alastor laughed and parried the simple testing hex with an equally simple protection spell. Both men were versed in the Dark Arts and each knew the other was a wily and dirty fighter. Almost as if the tiny skirmish had started an avalanche, magic began to pour from both wands; curses and hexes that would have them both clapped up in Azkaban if used in any other circumstances. Lucius was the younger of the two men by more than half a century, but Alastor had the experience at using both Dark Magic and Dark Artefacts in real battles. When Lucius pulled out a Ring of Night, Alastor cast Bergen's SunWold. When Alastor threw _Zinklamon,_ Lucius countered with _Heluhenestrua,_ both men staggering at the power drain the spells caused and three wizards in their vicinity dropping dead in sympathy. Both men paused to exchange disgusted looks at such a poor showing then were back into the fray as if undisturbed.

Such levels of output could not be sustained and a stone did Alastor an injustice, twisting under his foot and tossing him to the ground. He landed awkwardly, his head contacting the dirt with sickening force, a trickle of blood seeping through his hair to stain the grey a deep crimson. Lucius, panting hard, was about to cast the final killing curse when four Order members tossed an assortment of hexes at him, driving him away from his victim. Damn Alastor Moody, he had more luck than the very Devil! Lucius cursed as he fled to another part of the battlefield and looked for another target.

oo0oo

Battles and individual combats were taking place all over the lawns and gardens of Hogwarts, men and women dying without quarter given. Ron and Draco stared over the carnage, a deep sigh shaking the redhead to the core.

"What was that for?" Draco asked, flicking a curse at a Death Eater that got too close.

"Such a waste, so foolish when we are all wizards, no matter what our origins," Ron replied gruffly.

Draco laughed. "Bit late to worry about philosophy now, Weasel."

"True. Duck!" Ron pulled Draco aside as a curse sliced through the space the blond had occupied a few seconds before.

"Thanks. Who tossed that curse?" Draco demanded, spinning on his toes and firing back a curse that would never do for school use.

"Ouch! Did your Daddy teach you that one?" Ron taunted as more curses came their way.

"He certainly did." Draco smirked and set to work with a will, guarding Ron's back and yelling orders to their various components of force.

When mapping a battle on paper, it was easy to control the elements but in the field, the melee was just that, a stinking rush of spells and blood soaked adrenalin that swirled through the brain and the heart and drove soldiers past their best efforts or froze them solidly in place, unable to move. Ron came across one of Rosmerta's barmen crouched on the ground with not a mark on him, trembling and sobbing and unable to move another step. Shaking his head, he kicked the man hard in the thigh to get his attention then ordered him to get back to the wall and stay there. The man rose gratefully and began to run, panic guiding his flight until a spell cut his legs out from under him. Ron sighed again.

Draco found himself up against Goyle senior, father of one of his lieutenants. For a moment he didn't know if he could fight with someone he had called 'Uncle' for years, someone whose home he had stayed in and whose son he had known most of his life. He found it was not difficult when the older man snarled at him and called him a Blood traitor as he cursed him darkly. Ducking wildly, Draco cast _Crucio_ on the man, making him writhe before he cast _Avada Kedavra_ with never a second thought until someone started to clap slowly.

"So you finally found a backbone, did you?" Lucius asked his son with a fine show of contempt.

Draco stiffened. "I always had a backbone, I just refused to bend it to that piece of mad filth you grovel and sniff around," he snapped furiously.

Lucius drew himself up to his full height, intimidatingly taller than Draco. "The Dark Lord is not filth, he is…"

"A Half-blood, witch mother, Muggle father," Draco supplied with equal contempt. "Oh come on, Father, be honest with yourself, if no other. Your Dark Lord is a complete nutter and you have picked the losing side. You forget, I was forced to attend those horrendous meetings and watch fine old pureblood families grovel and fawn over his filthy feet, listen to the complete rubbish he was dribbling from his misshapen face and cringe when his grasp on reality slipped so far as to make him attack the total pillocks who hung on his every utterance. It was sickening!"

Lucius moved as fast as an adder, his backhand knocking Draco off his feet. "You have no idea of what the Dark Lord is, you ungrateful brat! He will preserve our way of life and allow us to conquer the whole world. I hoped you were just infatuated with teenage rebellion, but I see it was more than that. Did the old bastard cast _Imperio_ on you or have you taken to following Severus' lead and biting the hand that feeds you?"

"Neither, I simply used the very fine education you have afforded me and the very agile brain you gifted me and made my own decisions based on facts rather than rhetoric."

"Draco Malfoy, will you recant and come back to us?" Lucius asked very formally. 

"No, Lucius Malfoy, I will not," Draco replied with equal formality.

"In that case, _Av_…" Lucius lifted his wand and opened his mouth to speak, but blood bubbled out instead. A frozen look glazed his eyes before he slowly toppled forward, landing at Draco's feet.

Crabbe stood behind Lucius and listened to the conversation of father and son, heard the finality in Lucius' last words, heard the first syllable of the Unforgivable and knew he had to finish the man before he was allowed to disinherit or kill his friend. He knew he didn't have a reliable Killing Curse in him so he used his wand transfigured into a stout blade and simply plunged it between Lucius' ribs. It had been both easier and harder than he thought it would be but it was effective. He stared at Draco, who stared at his father then looked up at his friend with wide grey eyes.

"Bloody Hell!"

"You spend too much time with Weasley, Draco," Vincent remarked softly as he held out a hand to pull the smaller man to his feet.

Draco giggled slightly hysterically. "I know."

oo0oo

Ron saw the two Malfoys confront each other, but he was too far away to hear what was said between father and son. He knew it was going to end badly, but he was too distant to do anything effective as Lucius drew his wand. Before he could even yell a warning, a hex slammed into his hip and spun him on the spot. A high pitched giggle made his teeth gnash as he staggered and almost fell. The follow-up curse went wide and Bellatrix hissed furiously as the Weasley boy's counter hex opened her scalp from ear to crown.

"You little monster, look what you did to my hair," she screamed illogically and Ron shook his head in disgust as he automatically apologised. Bella heard him and burst out laughing hysterically. "Is the ickle widdle brain boy sowwy for cutting Aunty Bella's hair off, den? Isn't oo just so sweetums?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why do I get all the nuts and fruits?" he asked the lowering sky in disgust, dodging a hex that came too close for comfort. Bella might be a complete whack job, but she was still as dangerous as a cut snake. He danced backwards, tossing anything he could think of at the enraged woman, hoping against hope he could score a direct hit, even if it was just with a bloody _Stupefy_, anything to slow her down! He could hear her constant stream of baby-talk and laughter, the babbling never impairing her ability to throw curses, some of which he had never heard said aloud, only read about in Alastor's special library. She seemed to absorb his best efforts with absolutely no affect at all! It was terrifying.

Bellatrix was enjoying playing with the red-haired boy, who was red faced now, too. He was so cute, spewing little schoolboy spells at her and jumping around like a demented frog. She wondered how he would jump with one leg and sent an exploding hex at his feet, a shriek of laughter breaking out as Ron's foot and leg disintegrated under him. He fell with a scream, agony lancing through him, sending spots before his eyes. Bella walked up and smiled down, watching him writhe with a greedy expression of enjoyment. Strolling in a circle as if she was in her own dungeon, she put the tip of her wand to her lip thoughtfully then cast a cutting hex. Ron screamed again as his fingers and thumb parted company, fresh red blood colouring her vision. Bella loved the colour red, loved the pumping, spurting effects of cut arteries and veins and could watch it for hours, but someone was calling her name.

"Hey, Aunt Bella!"

She looked up and smiled widely. "Draco! How nice to see you. How are you, my dear?"

"I'm well, Aunt Bella. I have something for you, a surprise."

"How wonderful! What is it?"

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Crabbe turned with a raised eyebrow as his friend cast the curse with no trouble at all then stumbled back as a curse slammed into Draco's back, making him fly forward into Crabbe's arms. Vincent looked around wildly as a bludger flew past his head. A whack with his wand transfigured into a beater's bat bought him enough time to disintegrate it with a spell. Before he could further gather his wits Pansy Parkinson was upon them, slapping Draco hard across the face.

"You two timing bastard! I saw you with that whore, Granger, but I fixed her little game. She can't hook her claws into you any more, I got rid of the evidence for you but I forgive you. Head of Family now, aren't you? I always wanted to be the Lady of Malfoy Manor."

Draco's head was ringing but he managed to latch onto one thing. "What did you do to Hermione?" he asked fuzzily.

"I cast the Morning After Spell and killed the child, of course," Pansy said matter-of-factly. "And I…"

Crabbe hit her under the jaw with an uppercut that snapped her head back further than nature intended. The crack of her spine breaking was audible even over the sounds of the battle 

surrounding them. "Whoops," he muttered with a faint blush. "Er, sorry."

"That's alright, Vince, can you help me over to Weasel. Pansy has knocked my brain for six."

"He doesn't look so good," Vince remarked as he helped his smaller friend over to the badly injured Gryffindor. "What do you want me to do?"

Draco tried to clear his head, but he could see two of everything at the moment. "Go find Lavender and look after her, I'll Apparate Weasel and myself to St Mungo's, I don't think we are going to be much good out here today."

"Can you manage? You don't look so good yourself," Crabbe remarked candidly.

'We'll be fine," Draco assured him as he wrapped his arms around the comatose redhead and Apparated out.

oo0oo

All around them people were dying, the noise, the stench, the mud and blood and the sheer terror taking their toll of the combatants. Kingsley was amazed when he realised he had just killed Rodolphus Lestrange and Scrimgeour had taken out Rastaban Lestrange. It looked as if all the big name Death Eaters were either down or very hard pressed and, amazingly enough, the Light was winning the encounter at this point. He had stumbled across Alastor a few minutes earlier, or it could have been hours earlier, and sent his body off to St Mungo's with some portkey bandage. He had also come across Tonks' body and spared a second to mourn the quelling of her bright spirit before going on to remove some more Death Eater scum from the face of the earth. If all they had to worry about was the rabble they now faced, then he would have declared a victory for the Light but this was just a preliminary action, a warm-up to the main bout.

On the battlements above the mess of fighting, Harry stared down in horror and disgust, fury and sadness warring in him. He cast a few angry looks at Professor Dumbledore who still would not allow him to go and fight but the Professor looked every day as old as the hills, drawn and pale. His hands gripped his wand and the stonework so hard that the knuckles shone bone white through the old parchment skin, his fingers leaving dents in the stone. Oh no, Albus Dumbledore didn't like it one bit either, but he waited as patiently as he could for what was to come.

Professor McGonagall didn't look any better, drawn and grey with tears running freely down her face as she waited. Still, she conserved her energy and did nothing but watch and memorise and wait, as still as a cat at a mouse hole, the consummate hunter.

The only other occupant of the battlements was Professor Snape, standing at one of the openings as still as the older people, also watching and waiting. Occasionally he would mutter '_accio_' and something indescribable would fly to his hands. It would then disappear instantly into a vial that was shrunk and hidden before Harry could get a proper look at its contents.

"You know, Severus, doing that is highly illegal?" Dumbledore remarked once, softly.

"'Gather ye ingredients where ye may'," he misquoted equally softly. "Besides, it fills in the time."

Harry snorted a laugh, shocked that he could laugh at a time like this, the Potions Master smirking back before they all stiffened alertly.

A storm was coming, localised, intense and approaching from the south. Harry strained his eyes to try and see what was causing it, but Professor Snape merely smirked as he sent all the vials away to his workroom with a wandless spell. "Tom was ever one to come fashionably late and of course make an entrance."


	47. Lord of the Storm

Chapter 46 – Lord of the Storm

**Chapter 46** – _Lord of the Storm_

**Warnings: Character death, blood and gore.**

Lord Voldemort looked around at his decrepit surroundings and grimaced now there was no one else to see but the fat rat. After he had annihilated Potter and hung Dumbledore up in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, he would never return to this pitiable ruin again. He turned and surveyed the throne he had created from the living rock, formed and shaped by the Elementals that were his to command. It sat on a marble dais three steps high, enough space for Nagini to sleep comfortably under it, and beside it was a table holding the things he deemed as important. There was enough room at his feet for a slave or two to crouch, ready to tend to his every whim. He wondered if he should keep the Granger girl and the Weasley boy as slaves. It would be amusing to watch them writhe in pain as he tortured their fellow members of the Idiots Club.

He held his metal staff in his left hand as he caressed the moulded stone with the other then beckoned Wormtail imperiously, pointing to the dais at his feet. Wormtail crept into place, clutching the carved stone leg of the throne and closing his eyes fearfully as the Lord used the whole dais as a portkey to transport them to the bounds of Hogwarts.

The rolling gardens and pleasant walks were churned and torn, the battle destroying the usual serenity of the view. The accompanying storm whipped up the rags of the dead, flinging grass and dust into the air to mingle with the fumes and smoke and obscure the vision of those left alive to fight. It was a glorious scene as the huge marble edifice sailed grandly over the earth, crushing anything not fast enough to get out of its way, living or dead.

Harry looked around for Ron and Hermione as he and the headmaster made their way out of the cloistered courtyard and down toward the main sweep of the grounds. It didn't seem right that they were not at his sides as they ever had been, but in a way it was liberating. Now, he didn't have to worry about their safety, just his own, which wasn't that important at this time. Behind him the headmaster and headmistress walked sedately at his shoulders, strong and wise and reassuring in some way. He was vaguely aware of Snape slipping away to his left as they exited the courtyard, but his whole attention was taken up by the impressive and overblown floating monument that had brought Lord Voldemort to the battle.

"Well, well, little Harry Potter, so we meet again. And you have brought your little friends with you to play, how nice."

The voice hadn't changed, still the sibilant hiss underpinned with malice and threat. It had haunted Harry's nightmares for years after the graveyard incident, and it was just as back-bone-shivering now. He swallowed thickly. "I see you brought your friends to play too," he replied, hoping the bravado didn't show in his voice.

Nagini raised her head and studied the young snake before her master's throne. He spoke the language and he tasted like her master as she carefully uncoiled and moved to the edge of the steps. How intriguing. She stopped and stared at the boy when he said something interesting. "_You think I am beautiful?_" she questioned.

"_Yes, you are,_" Harry replied startled, his attention leaving Tom and focusing on the snake. "I've never seen a snake as big as you, or as well marked."

"_Thank you. I am going to find the snake man, he is always interesting,_" she remarked.

"_Snake man?_"

"_Sssseverussss - what a lovely name - he belongs to me now, master said I could have him._" Ignoring her master's impatience and the boy's questions, the huge snake swiftly wound her way through the grass seeking the one who always held her attention, the snake man.

She found him on the lawn behind the throne, no mask this time and involved in a battle with one of her master's toys who immediately ran away when she came into sight. Severus didn't move as she slowly coiled around him feet. Such a shame he didn't talk, she would have liked to speak to him as she raised her head high enough to look into his eyes.

Severus could not move as the huge snake wound him in her coils, hypnotised in some way, he supposed. It was often that way when the big snake chose a victim. However, when they had discussed the possibility of Nagini being a Horcrux they had planned for as many contingencies as they could think of. He had prepared for this eventuality which seemed the most likely scenario; a potion in his pocket with a top he could remove by wandless magic, even in his present state. He wrapped his mind around the vial's contents and carefully translocated the potion into the snake's stomach and bloodstream. Severus had practised the manoeuvre many times on dead snakes, also on mock-ups the same size as Nagini and he was fairly confident he could target her digestive system even if he was being slowly crushed by her silken coils. It wasn't a dangerous potion, it was a sleeping potion which didn't register as hostile, but it was strong enough and specific enough to put a snake the size of Nagini to sleep and then gently ease her into death in a matter of five minutes. All he had to do was make sure she didn't crush his ribs in the meantime.

The rhythmic movements of the coils were slowing; the pressure had not increased but it had not decreased either when Severus managed to turn his head a fraction to his right and spot someone sauntering over to ward him.

"Well, well, Severus Snape." The fat rat came into view. "Got yourself a bit of a problem there, have you?" he snickered, eyeing the snake wrapped man with intense hatred.

Severus couldn't spare the breath to exchange repartee with the idiot although he wouldn't lower himself at the best of times anyway. He simply concentrated on having enough room to keep the breath coming into his lungs. Wormtail walked a circle around him, poking at the odd bit of flesh that was exposed through the coils much to Snape's annoyance. The rat reached up and ran his silver hand over the long, sallow cheek then pinched like a maiden aunt, a slightly hysterical chuckle breaking out when he realised there would be no retaliation for his temerity.

"Oh, this is fun! The nasty, great, slimy git brought low by a big snake, how ironic, the snake is trapped and killed by a snake! I can do anything I like, can't I? Can I push you over? Yes, I can!" Suiting action to words, the fat little wizard pushed them over, the whole coil thudding into the dirt.

Snape was furious and Nagini not much better as her coils were jolted loose just a little. She had been dreaming of warm sun and a full belly when the intrusion happened, and now she was being crushed on one side, she adjusted her coils to a more comfortable fit and Snape managed to get a bit more breathing room for which he was thankful. The snake was not relaxing as quickly as he had hoped.

Pettigrew pulled out his wand and poked Snape's nose tentatively, casting a hint of a stinging hex which made the greasy git hiss a breath. Peter's smile widened over his bucked teeth as he grew bolder, poking at Snape's eyes. He wondered if he could actually poke one out without retaliation when a low snarl hit his ears. Moving very slowly, he looked to his left and saw a huge grey and amber wolf standing there with stiff legs and a snarl lifting its lips. He swallowed thickly as he backed away from his chosen victim, raising his silver hand threateningly. "Don't come near me or I'll burn you," he warned in wavering tones, but the wolf still approached with a stiff-legged gait that spelled menace. The threat of silver didn't deter him in the slightest.

Never very courageous, the rat broke and tried to run, but the werewolf was on him, going for his elbow and crunching his jaws down on the joint. The forearm with its deadly silver hand parted ways, and Pettigrew screamed a high-pitched wail of pure terror and agony. Rolling, he scrabbled in the dirt on his backside, trying to ward away the menace which had not stopped advancing on him until it stood over him in stiff-legged fury. Staring into the deadly amber eyes, Peter suddenly knew!

"Remus? Moony, is that you? Come on, you know me, it's Peter Pettigrew, your friend, you remember? This is just Snivillus, no one important and you aren't like this, you are too kind to really hurt me, aren't you?" he babbled, trying to change even as he spoke. He felt his body begin to twist with the animagus transformation, but the werewolf was ready for that. Catching his rapidly shrinking form up in his jaws, the lycanthrope tossed his head a little to move the body to the back molars then bit down hard, crushing the rat to death in a second. It spat out the remains as it began to revert to its human form, mangled and torn but still recognisable as Peter Pettigrew.

The wolf approached the bundled snake and carefully surveyed the man's predicament. Snape stared at the wolf for a moment before averting his eyes, not seeing the flash of hurt that showed for a second. "Well, don't just stand there, put your jaws to use and snap her bloody neck," Severus huffed, gesturing with his chin.

Moony bent further and delicately took the thinner width below the snake's head in his front teeth and gave it a nip. The snake twitched, tightening his coils and making Severus groan so the wolf backed away. "Just bloody do it!" Severus snapped, gasped and the wolf approached again.

As he bite down, severing the snake's head neatly, a hex came out of nowhere, slamming into the wolf's side and sending it flying across the churned grass to crash into an ornamental stone pot. He didn't move again. Severus moaned as the snake began to writhe and tighten her coils in her death throes. Another face loomed up then laughed and disappeared, leaving Severus where he was, lying in the embrace of a huge snake with little hope of getting away. At least she was dead, the soul fragment she had carried dissipating harmlessly and undetectable to Tom. Now he was vulnerable, mortal and killable! Severus prayed that Potter would triumph soon!

oo0oo

Harry faced the madman across a stretch of churned lawn, trying to keep a lid on his fear. This was not the graveyard at night, he was not alone, he had powerful allies and he knew he could control the monster's wand with his… Harry's eyes widened when he realised that Lord Voldemort was not holding a wand but a metal rod that glinted in the oddly tinted light.

"Did you think I would not learn from my past mistakes?" the Dark Lord asked in amusement when Harry's eyes widened in shock. "If a tool betrays you then cast it aside, don't you know that yet, little boy? But tell me, Albus Dumbledore, how is the child to cast aside his own mind?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Tom," Albus said pleasantly in the face of his gloating.

"Oh, come now, who has been giving the child Occlumency lessons in an effort to keep me out of his mind? What? Did you think I hadn't noticed how hard he has been trying? Such a good little student, and so futile. I'm sure you suspected or perhaps even knew deep in your mind that there is no such person as Harry Potter, he died at the age of eighteen months, killed by a nasty old dark curse. There is only Lord Voldemort and his greatest creation, his living, breathing Horcrux, the first and only one of its kind!"

"That's not true!" McGonagall protested before Harry or Albus could say a word.

"Stupid woman, of course it's true, look at their faces! They thought it was Nagini but no, it is their precious Boy Who Lived to Be a Perfect Container for Lord Voldemort's Soul!" Tom gloated. "If I want my soul fragment back, all I have to do is this!"

Harry screamed as his mind was ripped open and everything he had tried to suppress over the years came flooding to the forefront. Faces loomed and leered, Quirrell burning to his touch, the black figure dripping unicorn blood as it swooped at him. Snape looming over him threatening expulsion, caught in the Devil's Snare, facing the Basilisk and killing a diary, facing a dragon and stealing her egg. The darkness of the graveyard and the agony of having his arm pierced against his will. His blood falling into the cauldron one drop at a time, betraying him, betraying the Light, bringing the devil back to life. He fell to his knees, clutching his scar as it ripped a fiery path across his brow, his wand held uselessly in his fist.

"So you see, little boy, I made you and you made me," Tom said gently as he rose and stepped to the edge of his dais. "Unfortunately, it is now time to consolidate myself and reunite my soul, which means there is no room left for you, Harry Potter. To release my fragment, you must die in torture and agony but don't worry, this won't hurt above exquisite."

He bent and scooped up a small plush toy and held it up with a maniacal grin, twisting one of its legs and laughing hugely. The laughter cut off abruptly when there was no reaction apart from a jaw dropping puzzlement from the boy in front of him. Damn that blasted Snape, he had failed in his given task to make the toy suitable for voodoo or sympathetic magic. Damn him to the pits of Hell! Voldemort tore the toy in half and tossed it on the ground with a cry of fury that echoed over the landscape and caused the distant trees to tremble.

In the infirmary wing, Goyle junior, although stunned and immobilised, began to writhe despite the bindings on him. One leg bent and snapped like a pistol shot even though no one approached him. His back bowed and bent at horrendous angles, then he was literally torn in two and slammed though the air spraying blood and gore over the shocked audience who hurried to see what the commotion was about. Shaking her head in shock, Molly quickly cast more protection spells over the wards and cleaned away the evidence of the young man's demise.

Raising the metal staff, Lord Voldemort screamed out to the Elements he had harnessed, a chain of fire flashing as the thunder sounded, and the lightening flashed, rain came from nowhere to pound on them, the wind whipping into a very localised tornado, something outlined in dust and smoke in the centre. Albus drew a deeply shocked breath as the Elemental being writhed and moved under the fierce whip wielded by the skeletal figure who laughed maniacally as it drove the chained being down onto the kneeling boy. Both Albus and Minerva tried to hold the creature made of elements back from its target, but it could not be withstood when it was driven by such a malicious force. The tornado's funnel swept over the young man and engulfed him completely.

Harry screamed as the winds tore at him, the grit scoured his exposed skin and the rain soaked him. Even the earth jiggled under his knees making him fall forward and only just catch his weight on his hands. Mouth stretched wide, he tried to snatch a breath of air in the whirling maelstrom, but the wind tore it from his lungs and denied a replacement lungful until his head swam and black spots danced in front of his eyes. He didn't want to die like a landed fish, gasping and gulping in the dirt, blood and tears dripping from his chin and causing splatter marks in the dirt. One… two… three… four…

The world grew still.

Gasping, Harry sat back on his haunches, raising his head to stare around in shock. The air still tore itself to pieces a few feet from his nose, but he was engulfed in a still, warm pocket inside the storm. There were eyes in the whirlwind, watching him unblinkingly as he gasped and sniffed, regaining his bearings and his breath.

"You share the blood of the monster, who are you?" a voice of air and thunder asked.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he replied quickly. He swallowed when a feeling of complete disgust washed over him, making him feel particularly stupid, as if he was still in Potions class. "Erm, yeah… Harry."

The creature in the storm surrounded him, tendrils sliding into his very being to open his molecules and examine the fluids of his life and tissues. He was destroyed, examined and reconstructed in an instant, the wind's fingers and the rain's soothing touch bringing him back after his total destruction. There was no way to describe the experience except perhaps that he was remade anew, whole and completely refreshed as the eyes in the storm became thoughtful.

"You are duality, you are the monster…"

"No! I'm not like him!" Harry protested bitterly, fearfully.

"… but you are more complex and deeper, a four-fold being rather than a single element much like ourselves."

"Oh. I -- I don't want to be like him, I don't want to be connected to him in any way, he is evil!"

"What will you give?" the storm asked cunningly.

"I would give my life if it would get rid of him for all time and keep my people safe from his evil," Harry said softly with complete conviction.

Again, he was examined, his life exposed and incidents replayed almost curiously. "Even for this bulbous one, you would give up your life?" The Elemental forced a memory to the forefront of the youth's mind.

Harry remembered Dudley pushing him down the stairs, taking his toys, snatching his letters, then he remembered Dudley cringing from the Dementors and how he had driven them away. "Yes, even so, and despite the wrongs the boy did you. You are much more complex than the monster. Very well, we will help you remove this blight on your people and on your person, but there will be a price. Are you willing to pay?"

"Yes."

"Summon his wand and we will guide you."

oo0oo

Both Albus and Minerva cast Unforgivables at Tom, but he merely laughed as they bounced away, one taking out a stray Death Eater in passing. The localised storm between the two warring parties grew fiercer and despair bit at the observers as the Dark Lord took untold delight in the development. He struck at both Albus and Minerva, crowing with delight as the older couple were forced to stagger backwards, away from his throne, away from the storm shrouded boy.

The winds grew stronger, the storm tighter, the lightening strikes faster and brighter as raw magic was pulled from the landscape and concentrated into the whirling winds until even Tom began to lose his maniacal cheerfulness as the storm seemed to pull further into itself. Now the spectators could see the outline of Harry Potter embedded in the tornado's centre, on his feet, his eyes flashing as the wind whipped his robes around him and tossed his hair wildly.

Slowly, he raised his wand until it was shoulder high, his left hand open and fingers curled. "_Accio_ Tom's wand!" he roared, and Tom screamed, clutching at his metal staff with both hands.

Something stirred on the table by his throne and a very familiar length of holly and phoenix feathers flew to Harry's waiting hand. Tom screeched in fury and roared a hex, using the lightening whip to slash his smaller opponent to no effect. Harry continued to raise both wands above his head, bringing the tips into contact and focussing the blasts of lightening from the storm. As he slowly moved his hands together, the two wands seemed to meld and combine to a slightly thicker single unit, then Harry smiled.

"_Avada Kedavra anima extinctum!_"

The beam of green fire that left Harry's wand was joined by a twin beam of the green soul fragment from his eyes. The roiling black clouds above sent a single blast of lightening that was channelled through the boy's wand, the wind and the wild magic following the path forged by the lightening as it zeroed in on Tom's frozen figure. His metal staff acted like a lightening rod, the green fire bathing him in lurid light before it sank into his very skin then exploded.

To the Muggleborns it looked like an atomic mushroom cloud, to the wizards it was a roiling green ball of fire and heat that singed hair and eyebrows, scorched exposed skin and set the grass alight with its fury. Harry Potter held the power until the soul was completely destroyed, his mouth wide, and his eyes staring until all the green had been leached from his irises leaving them white and pale. Even the famous scar shed its colour and angry redness, becoming pale and old and silvery in those terrible few moments of absolute annihilation of a soul. Then, as the storm dissipated and the clouds were torn to tatters by the dropping wind, he sank bonelessly to the ground. Albus rushed forward and felt for a pulse, finding it thin and thready and almost undetectable.

The silence after the storm's roar was deafening until a few cries of the wounded and the rustle of a March breeze sent a stray leaf fragment skittering over the blasted cobbles. The stillness of the aftermath held for a perfect second, then the last of the Death Eaters realised they had lost and began to flee. Aurors shook off the stillness and tried to chase them down, but arrows arced out of the Forbidden Forest and not many were left alive for the Aurors to collect. The centaurs were determined that none of the Death Eaters should escape to ever begin this human madness again.

Others stooped around the battlefield, checking to make sure those lying down were actually dead, the few left alive were quickly bound and a portkey placed on their chests. The Ministry had learned from the Death Eaters and had instant portkeys that transported straight to Azkaban where the offender could be held until a trial date was set.

Moving slowly through the blood-soaked field, Scrimgeour came upon a welcome sight: Severus Snape trying to get free of a dead snake. "It must be my lucky day," he commented with a twisted sneer as he crouched down beside the spy and laid a piece of stone on his chest. "Finally, I get to put you where you belong, you filthy animal, and no one will ever know what happened to you!"

As Snape opened his mouth to protest, the portkey activated and Scrimgeour gave a jaunty little wave as he stood up and dusted his knees, a smugly satisfied laugh breaking out.

"That was not very nice, Auror Scrimgeour," a cultured feminine voice said from behind him, and he whipped around, trying to bring his wand to bear, but the beautiful blonde in the dramatic black outfit merely smiled at his efforts as her lips shaped the fatal words. The world turned green for Rufus Scrimgeour even as his mind protested the unfairness.

Narcissa Malfoy contemplated the Auror and the dead snake before she sighed. Her world was over, her husband dead and her son a blood traitor. Her Lord and lover had failed in his bid for power, and she was very sure her privileged existence was about to get very ugly. Rather than face those consequences she was going to do what every good Lady did in times like these. Taking out a vial of silvery liquid, especially brewed by Severus Snape, she gave a toast to absent friends and upended it into her mouth. She had about half an hour before the poison worked, long enough to dispose of some incriminating evidence at home. She Disapparated.


	48. Aftermath

Chapter 47 – Aftermath

**Chapter 47** – _Aftermath_

Remus woke up naked and alone, shivering and dizzy, a stone urn behind his head. He remembered going to bite Nagini as she lay crushing Severus but then… everything was blank. He managed to sit up on the second try and saw the huge snake only feet from his side, dead of course, but her coils were empty! Where was Severus? Remus was very sure that he wouldn't have gone away and left him lying there, not these days. And Peter's body was only a few feet further on, one arm torn off and his throat torn out. The wolf in Remus rejoiced in the hot rush of blood, revelled in the killing it had done the day before. Even though Remus could not join in the celebration of death, he realised it was war and there had been nothing else he could do but destroy his enemies. He refused to feel guilty about the battle and the casualties and the blood.

Staggering to his feet, Remus shivered and began the trek back to the school, making note of where the black clad bodies were and where the red clad bodies lay. Others moved on the field, some as naked as he, others clothed in various robes, but none were Death Eater black and Remus didn't think he had to fear. Someone gave a shout and Remus nearly levitated when he was grabbed from behind and squeezed tightly. A swirl of cloth attacked him and he suddenly realised he was being wrapped in a warm school robe. Turning as fast as his whirling head would allow him, he saw Crabbe, Draco's loyal lieutenant grinning at him, a slightly blushing Lavender Brown behind him and Remus blushed too.

"Glad we found you, Professor," Lavender said once he was decent. "We've been delivering clothing to the werewolves who are coming out of it now. Have you seen Professor Snape? We can't find hide nor hair of him and Professor Dumbledore was worried."

"No, I haven't. He was over there but now he is gone and I couldn't even get a scent from the resting place, senses are all confused."

"There's blood on your head and I don't think it's from transformation," Crabbe remarked, lending an arm as the slight professor staggered. "Come on, let's get you back to the infirmary. Hey, Lavender, watch our back, will you, Honey?"

Lavender blushed in pleasure and drew her wand most professionally as they hurried back to the castle.

oo0oo

Hermione lay in a coma, Draco hovering over her in fearful hope as soon as he had escaped from St Mungo's. His own concussion had only taken a few hours to heal, but getting away from the healers had taken longer. It was a toss-up whether the healers of St Mungo's or the Auror guards of Azkaban were the most effective at keeping a prisoner incommunicado. He periodically glanced down at the black tattoo on his left arm, not gone, but faded and old looking and no longer a sinister reminder of folly. In a way he was very grateful to Pansy for her attack on Hermione, who was almost guaranteed to recover, according to Madam Pomfrey. Her wounds had kept her out of the main battle and thus safe from harm. A fierce fighter and a staunch ally, he feared that Hermione was not a killer and that, if she had had to kill someone it would affect her for the rest of her life. This way she could be happy for her contribution without feeling guilty for not fighting in the thick of battle. It was a very good, very Slytherin solution as far as he was concerned, a win-win situation. He smiled gently as he replaced a stray curl behind her ear, again.

In the next bed over Harry Potter lay equally unmoving, Ginny Weasley holding his hand and talking quietly to him while a tattered roster of injured Aurors stood guard over the Hogwarts infirmary to keep the press and the grateful public out. When Tom Riddle exploded, they feared Harry would die too, but he had lived and didn't seem to have sustained very much damage. His very famous scar had turned old and silvery, an obscure looking relic of an old accident. Until he woke up and was able to answer questions, all the healers could do was feed him fortifying potions to stave off shock and magical exhaustion. After all, he had just defeated the greatest Dark Lord of their times.

An equal number of guards hovered over Ron Weasley who lay in St Mungo's with an amputated leg and hand, even though he was conscious. Draco had left him in a haze of potions induced sleepiness but still able to comprehend that he had lost his leg and his fingers. Even wizards could not regrow limbs like some sort of frog or lizard. Once they parted company they were severed forever. The St Mungo's staff were going to have a very hard time trying to convince the active and athletic Weasley that life was really worth living even if he couldn't play his beloved Quidditch or run about or, most likely, pursue a career as an Auror as he and Harry had planned to once they left school.

Word of the victory had spread like wildfire, Voldemort was dead, blasted to smithereens by Harry Potter, as promised, and the wizarding world was again free for wizards and witches to live their little lives in peace. All the Death Eaters were dead and gone, killed on the battlefields of Hogwarts by the Aurors and the centaurs who had annihilated the survivors most ruthlessly. That had come as something of a surprise: the centaurs' ruthless destruction of anyone wearing a tattoo. Malfoy wondered how he had been spared the purge. It was only later that he learned that his Order tattoo had grown brighter and more visible in direct proportion to the dimming and fading of the Mors Mordre - an interesting development.

Only a few bewildered fringe groupies still sported the Dark Mark, but most of them had fled or were using heavy concealment charms until they could have it removed. There was a rumour that Muggle tattoo parlours were doing a bit of business in the alterations department. The Aurors knew that but they felt they had managed to remove the fanatical core element and the rest who had not fought would be wanna-be hangers-on and tactically useless to anyone even thinking of reviving the movement. Three were definitely no rallying points and therefore the Death Eaters were seen to be defanged.

The roll of the dead was horrendous, name upon name printed in the Daily Prophet, whole families wiped out to the last adult, children left bewildered and orphaned with nowhere to go. The Ministry had no idea of how to cope, but there was a groundswell suggesting that the confiscated Death Eater assets should be used to set up war orphanages to cater to the children. It was a good idea and since a lot of Malfoy money was rumoured to be coming up, quite a few Ministry officials had put their weight behind the scheme and volunteered for service. However, Minister Constantine Clearwater was nobody's fool and had a firm hand on that rein. Any Death Eater assets would be frozen by Gringotts until the guilt or innocence of the accused could be proven in a real court of law, not the jumped-up kangaroo courts that had prevailed in Fudge's times . Significant and tangible evidence would have to be provided by the prosecutor, and rumour and innuendo were inadmissible in a court of law.

Any orphanages or charities that were set up would be overseen by a board of Governors similar to the school board, and all spending would have to be approved by the committee that would be announced at a later date. In the meantime, temporary accommodation would be provided by the Ministry at the Royal College of Herbology as an interim measure. They had enough dormitories and kitchen facilities to cater to a small army.

At Hogwarts a bewildered group of children had been found locked in a classroom, one or two of the older ones Marked. There had been calls to prosecute them to the full extent of the law, but Headmaster Dumbledore had quashed that idea immediately. No one was making scapegoats of his children, not even a vengeful public. He had said so in an emotion laden speech that had been broadcast over the WWW to every home in Britain and most of the other continents had tuned in too. He had reminded the world of the aftermath of Grindelwald; how dissatisfaction and a lust for revenge had caused many an innocent family to be targeted unnecessarily. How unfair and crippling 'reparations' had caused resentment and had eventually contributed to the creation of the situation they had just passed through. How the righteous indignation of the Light fighters had been taken to an excess that allowed even greater atrocities to be committed in the name of Good than the followers of Grindelwald had committed in the name of Evil. Balance was the key to his speech, balance in all things, including attitude, magic and thought.

There was talk of medals and of ceremonies, but those they most wanted to honour were in no condition to leave their healers, or were not even conscious to realise they had triumphed over all. The loss of so many Aurors had created problems in the policing of the wizarding world, but everything was surprisingly quiet as if even the criminal element had taken a holiday for once. The loss of Chief Auror Scrimgeour had been a painful one and most of the senior staff had gone too. A few wanted Kingsley Shacklebolt as Chief Auror, but the Wizengamot ruled him too young in their infinite wisdom and so an unusual solution was found. As an emergency measure, Hestia Jones was appointed as co-chief along with Alastor Moody. Hestia was crippled but her mind was pinpoint clear. Alastor was mobile and could act as her corporeal presence, but no one trusted him to run the Aurory on his own, he was too harsh.

oo0oo

Severus was conscious of the darkness and the dank bedding under his cheek as he swam into consciousness. He also felt the cold creeping into his bones and mind. What the hell had happened? Nagini had rolled him up in her coils, but Pettigrew, the sneaky, filthy rat had come to hex him. Then Remus had come along and used his jaws to kill Nagini. How could he ever have thought Remus was…. The pleasant thought was snatched away, replaced by the old vision of teeth and claws and snarling jaws, a frission of terror crawling down his spine.

Rolling onto his back, Severus surveyed his surroundings and bit his lip to stop a squeak of terror breaking out. Where the hell was he? Who had betrayed him? Scrimgeour, that bastard, he had put a Portkey on him before he could get out of Nagini's grip, which logically meant… Azkaban! He shivered. Headmaster Dumbledore would soon come and get him out of here. The comforting thought was ripped away and replaced by demands to kill the headmaster, horror invading his soul. Or Remus would come and get him out, come searching for him… the comfort of Remus' warm nature was instantly replaced by a cold certainty that love was merely an illusion, remember Tom?

"What's happening to me?" he murmured aloud, patting down his pockets and totally amazed to find his wand still in its sheath on his arm. Drawing the slim rod, he cast _Lumos_ and drew back against the wall when he realised he was surrounded by Dementors, more pushing into the small, damp cell by the minute. Cold, grave-like fingers of thought began to invade his soul and mind, scrabbling through his memories, seeking out the warmth and joy, what precious little there was.

Desperately, Severus tried to cast his Patronus, but his one small kernel of joy was gleefully eaten up in an instant. Horrified, Snape cast his strongest Occlumentic wall, forcing the ghostly tendrils from his mind. A mad sweep of his own memories gathered up all his precious moments and bundled them roughly into a holding ball. Even as he cast the password on the ball, the occlumency wall was broken and the Dementors snatched at the last remnant, stealing away the words and the feelings that made Severus, leaving … Snape.

oo0oo

Hermione woke to the gentle murmur of voices, a deeper one chatting to a small, high pitched one that answered in noises and giggles. She smiled and opened her eyes to watch her husband and son sharing what looked like a bowl of stewed apple. Both wore a fair layer of the glop, and she had to laugh as another spoonful landed in the perfect Malfoy coif which was already liberally plastered. Two pairs of bright grey eyes flew to her face, cries of 'Mama' and 'Wild Hair' gasped out as she was grabbed and hugged within an inch of her life.

"Oh, Merlin, you're awake at last! Oh, Sweetheart, you have no idea…"

"Hey now, are those tears? Draco, honey, please, I'm fine," she replied but didn't try to push either of her menfolk away. Over his shoulder she caught Ginny's eye and smiled tentatively as the younger girl nodded in quiet satisfaction but did not intrude.

There was a rustle of starched cloth and a stranger hurried down the row of beds to cluck and fuss, pulling the man and child aside to check Hermione's vitals and complain about the glops of stewed apple on her nice clean bed and patient. Draco laughed and shook his head, vanishing them instantly, too happy to take offence at the fussy woman's complaining. He mouthed 'I love you' over her shoulder, not caring if anyone saw it or how it looked, he was just so happy to have his wife back and conscious again.

The excited squeals of a small child penetrated the deep sleep Harry was enjoying, dream free for the first time in years. He yawned and stretched and opened his eyes to blink heavily when nothing happened.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed in shock, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

Hands grabbed his wrists and he tossed them away fearfully, hearing a body thump off the other wall. A wordless spell had his wand in his hand, but it didn't feel like his wand and he still couldn't see! Panicked, he surged to his feet, feeling things moving away from him but unable to judge the results of his strongly cast _protego_. Finally a very familiar and bossy voice began to penetrate his sheer blue funk, and he cocked his head listening to it.

"Hermione? Is that you? Are you alright? What the hell is going on?"

"You mean apart from Cyclone Harry destroying the Infirmary?" she demanded tartly and he could just imagine her standing there with her hands on her hips, elbows akimbo as usual.

"Sorry," he apologised sheepishly and started as hands caught his waist.

"No! It's just Ginny, she's going to help you sit down and stop flashing your bare bum to the world, Harry Potter."

Embarrassment made him go bright red as he slumped down on what he realised was a hospital bed, the horrible hospital gown pulled tight around his dignity. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly and as engulfed in a vast, warm hug, Ginny's tears soaking his shoulder and Hermione's carefully worded explanations filling him in before other strangers could get near him. He did not realise that the _protego_ he had cast had completely shrouded their small section of the ward and that a number of people were hammering on the rock hard shield in an attempt to get near them.

Draco merely watched with an amused smirk while his wife and Harry's girlfriend brought him up to speed. It seemed that Harry Potter had grown even more powerful than anyone ever expected, which, Draco's Slytherin brain quickly concluded, might be an issue if the Chosen One wasn't careful. They would have to have a very private meeting on the nature of control and good working relations before the day was much older, he decided.

Before Draco could make any further plans, Professor Dumbledore swept in and took the situation in at a glance. He pressed on the wards and was allowed to enter the privacy bubble much to the consternation of the rest of the crowd, nodding to Draco who grinned back cheerfully. So that was how it was to be played, was it, a purpose-build safety precaution for the protection of the Golden Boy while he was incapacitated. _Bravo_, Dumbledore. Perhaps playing with Gryffs would not be as boring as he feared.

oo0oo

Remus was beside himself with terror. He could not find Severus anywhere, no trace of him, no body, no magical signature, nothing. When he went to the Aurory he was virtually thrown out on his ear, a bloody werewolf trying to enter the Ministry was still not on. Anywhere and everywhere he went, he was met with all the usual, hurtful opposition to his curse. It was as if werewolves had never fought in the Battle for Hogwarts, as if they had never contributed to the welfare of the state at all. Even creeping into St Mungo's to see Ron became a hazardous enterprise. A medi-witch had screamed, and a full security detail had driven him out of the building all together. All his old insecurities came flooding back, destroying the confidence he had built as a war leader and a defender of the Light, leaving the old Lupin in place, self-effacing and nervously hiding in the shadows once again. 

When he went up to Hogwarts to see Harry and Hermione, it was completely different, the pair welcoming him with open arms and cries of delight. Molly and Poppy fussed over him, but he could not settle until he had informed them of Severus' disappearance. Everyone, including Professor Dumbledore, tried to locate the Potions Master but to no avail. Draco frowned deeply when he emerged from the hospital wing, casting a rather Dark tracking spell but he could find no trace of his Godfather either.

"It's as if he never existed at all," Molly said softly, staring at her fellow Order Members in baffled silence.

"Of course he existed," Remus snapped. "None of the other Death Eaters disappeared, their bodies or their persons were retrieved so I don't think he was vaporised with Riddle. There has to be a rational explanation for all of this and we will find him."

"Of course we will, dear, now I suggest you get some sleep, Remus, you look like you haven't slept in a week," Poppy advised, drawing him over to a bed in the corner.

"I haven't," Remus confessed. "It's been a week since the battle and I just can't rest, I have to find Severus, I have to."

"I'll ask Professor Dumbledore to see what he can do," Harry said firmly, blind eyeballs making it very hard to meet his gaze for most people. "There is supposed to be some sort of medal presentation tomorrow at the Ministry. If they can't produce Professor Snape, how about we don't show up? It would be just like the bloody Ministry to toss him in Azkaban and never tell anyone, just conveniently sweep him under the carpet and forget he was instrumental in their liberation from that madman."

It was fortunate that Harry's blindness made him unaware of the stares of shock from the small audience of healers and Auror guards that had gathered. It was a complete about-face from his former attitude to the Hogwarts Potions Master. Remus merely hugged him in gratitude.

oo0oo

The Governor of Azkaban looked shocked as his Floo flared and Professor Dumbledore himself stepped out, soot falling away from him as if incapable of besmirching his clothes or beard.

"S-Sir! Professor, I - I didn't… Please, come and have a seat, can we bring you some tea? A footstool, perhaps or a glass of pumpkin juice?"

"Now, now, Percy, do settle down. I am sorry to disturb you so unexpectedly, but I fear you have one of my professors stashed away in your cells, quite by accident, I'm sure," Dumbledore said congenially as he took the seat behind the desk and surveyed his former Head Boy with a twinkling eye.

Percy gaped like a landed fish. "Oh no, Sir, that sort of thing does not happen any more! No one gets in here unless they come through me, I do assure you. My system is foolproof and organised, not like the usual haphazard way the previous administrators ran this place. We have a filing system and a lot of checks and balances in place to stop people being attacked indiscriminately or being lost in the system…"

"All the same, Percy, I believe one has slipped in unannounced," Dumbledore broke in gently over his tirade, backed up by a sweep of his hand at the neatly arranged folders around the walls. "We have evidence of an Azkaban portkey being used on the battlefield where Severus was last seen."

"Sev… Professor Snape? You lost Professor Snape? Oh, well, he wouldn't trip any alarms, one sweep of his Dark Mark and he would be immediately incarcerated," Percy said contemptuously then quavered under the steely look the Headmaster had taken on.

"Your prejudice does you no credit, my boy, and does Severus a deep disservice after all the time and sacrifice he has made on behalf of our tired and ailing world. Show me where he might be immediately."

"Sir, the Dementors…."

"Now!"

The dark and freezing cell looked empty at first glance, the Dementors passing it without stopping, but Dumbledore increased the output of his _lumos_ spell and chased the shadows from the corners. A tiny huddle of black cloth was far too small to be such a tall man as Snape but nevertheless, Dumbledore insisted on going in. Percy shook his head and sent a guard in to haul the unfortunate to the light, shocked when the filthy, stinking individual proved indeed to be Professor Snape, a thin and fine drawn version of him with blood on his robes and empty darkness in his eyes.

"He's been stripped, Administrator," the guard said flatly, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Oh dear, this is… this is terrible, how did he get past my safeguards? Damn it, I will have to review all the procedures again and send out another hundred memos. Does no one read the procedural text these days? Honestly, how is a body supposed to keep everything documented if people don't follow the correct procedures?" Fussing and fuming, Percy stormed away, leaving Dumbledore to gently take Snape's shoulder and turn him, pointing him to the stairs and back up to the administration centre. The guard moved uneasily, but he was not about to confront the great Albus Dumbledore over a prisoner who was really not supposed to be there in the first place, especially a prisoner who had been stripped of all emotions by rogue Dementor action.

Severus moved like an automaton, guided by the hand on his shoulder, his thoughts locked down and away from all knowledge. He stepped when told, spoke when told, climbed when told, bathed when told, nothing penetrated until he finally smelled the comforting scents of home. Potions ingredients mixed with the furniture polish the house-elves insisted on using on his wooden furniture. Slowly, an inch at a time, he raised his head and looked around his home for the last twenty years. Perhaps the nightmare was really over, not just another Dementor induced dream to torment him and make him give up his last shred of hope, rescue by Dumbledore, his latest Master. It was indeed home and he had been rescued by Dumbledore who stood quite still and watchful on his hearthrug.

Moving like a wind-up doll, Snape gently ran his fingers over the sleek teak top of his expandable dining table, taking in the texture. Slowly, one step at a time he moved to his own bedroom and ran his hands over the intricate bas relief carving of his mother's bedstead, the beautiful scenes his comfort since he moved to Hogwarts. The clothes were his, the space was his and all of his senses confirmed that it was true, not some Dementor-induced hallucination.

Finally, Severus allowed himself to shake.


	49. Epilogue

Chapter 48 – Epilogue

**Chapter 48** – Epilogue

Three months after the end of the war, the wizarding world was ready to honour its heroes and its dead. The wounded were healed, or at least temporarily patched up. The dead were safely laid to rest, some with extra spells to stop them walking as _Inferi_ again, many cremated as an added precaution. It had taken quite some weeks to identify all the Inferiand send the relevant bodies back to their families. The Muggle_ Inferi _were quietly cremated and laid to rest in the biggest Muggle cemetery in London with a blessing by a priest who was a Squib as well as a minister of the cloth.

The trials had been held, only a very few as most of the Marked Death Eaters had been killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. Only two adult Death Eaters remained, and a handful of children who had been discovered in a locked classroom after the battle.

Most of the children with the Mark had been declared coerced and therefore free of any real wrong-doing, especially after the testimony of Albus Dumbledore. One or two tried to protest this blanket forgiveness out of a false sense of bravado, but a single dose of _Veritaserum_ dispelled their protests, showing that they were a last ditch attempt to live up to what they perceived as their Family's wishes for them. As most were purebloods, their early training was cited as extenuating circumstances rather than any real belief in their superiority to Muggleborns or Half-bloods. There was some talk of disbanding the Family traditions, but Albus Dumbledore quickly squelched that ridiculous motion in its infancy, citing the excesses of zeal as his main argument. Family traditions were so entrenched in wizarding society that to even attempt to disband them, would do even more damage than Tom Riddle had ever managed.

Draco Malfoy, son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy had given spectacular evidence. He freely and calmly admitted to being both a Death Eater and a spy, his Order of the Phoenix tattoo bright and clear on his right hand for everyone to see. The documents presented to the court showed his consistent and indisputably valuable contributions that had directly saved many lives, including the lives of three of the Wizengamot panel that were judging him. He didn't brag or boast but stated his case clearly and concisely and had come off with most of his family estates intact, especially when it was revealed that he was married to the Gryffindor Lioness and they had a young son who was absolutely adorable and charmed the media so perfectly. Hermione had told his father in the privacy of their room that Lysander was a complete Slytherin and if he had not been so young she would have sworn he was manipulating the press for their own ends. Draco only laughed.

The trial of Severus Snape was the longest and the hardest for all who participated. Under _Veritaserum_ he freely confessed that yes, he was a Death Eater and had been one since he was sixteen years old. Had he tortured anyone? Yes, he had. Could he name names? He did, a list that shocked and infuriated half the world. Had he supported Lord Voldemort and his plans to conquer the world?

And that was where the trial jumped the rails.

No, he had not supported Lord Voldemort's plans of conquest, Lord Voldemort had become a complete nutter and Albus Dumbledore had decided that the only way to bring him down was to work from the inside to undermine his organisation. He had taken Snape's complete willingness to become a spy for the Light and used it ruthlessly to bring about Voldemort's downfall. And what position had Snape held as a Death Eater? None. Officially he was not part of the Death Eater organisation, he was seen as part of Voldemort's family and therefore exempt from any of the standard conventions which gave him a much freer hand to work his spying missions for Professor Dumbledore.

And so it went on, the prosecution trying to make him a scapegoat and his own words disintegrating their arguments. No one could doubt what the man said, _Veritaserum_ making sure he told nothing but the truth, as shocking and as upsetting as it was. Many old prejudices and ideas were exploded, many comfortable truths were destroyed and ideas about many prominent people crushed. Reputations were tarnished and deeds exposed as the man's encyclopaedic knowledge of the underside of wizarding world was revealed. A number of perfectly respectable people had to flee the country as their façade was ripped away and their true allegiances were exposed to the public gaze.

In the end Severus Ibrim Snape was found guilty of being a Death Eater but not culpable by way of extenuating circumstances. The fact that he had been tortured, abused and faced the _Cruciatus_ Curse from Lord Voldemort on a regular basis but had still continued his spying, regardless of the danger and pain won him many points with the jury. Finally, after a long and rugged debate he was allowed to go free and return to Hogwarts as Potions Master despite the revelations. No one, not even the most zealous of bigots thought to demand reparations from the thin, worn man. In fact, no one even remembered that the Snape Family were wealthy, almost as wealthy as the Malfoy and the Bones Family, and the Snape Family estates were left intact.

oo0oo

It was July, the sun shone warm and gentle on the restored grounds of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The huge crowd was gathered to watch the unveiling of the war memorial, designed and raised by Professor Dumbledore himself using transfiguration spells of his own design. No one knew what to expect except perhaps Severus Snape who lurked in the shadows of the school's walls and watched the gathering with a cynical eye. Anyone who spied him gave him a wide birth, terrified to meet his empty black eyes or even acknowledge his presence.

A step behind him made him turn, Draco smirking at the wand his Godfather had half drawn. "Twitchy, aren't we?" the blond murmured as his Godfather sneered and straightened, acknowledging his presence with a slight bow.

"There have been two attempts on my life in the last week by disgruntled members of families that fell by my testimony. One idiot woman proposed marriage to breed superior children then took exception to my rejection with a rather nasty hex, which I managed to avoid, of course. And there has been enough howlers delivered to keep Flourish and Blotts in ink orders for the next twenty years. Don't you think I have earned the right to be, er, twitchy?"

Draco chuckled. "Perhaps. How are you getting on with Remus? We haven't seen him for ages."

"Why would I want to get on with the mangy werewolf?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow, his sneer taking on a surprisingly cold edge.

"I thought you and he…"

"Hah! Not in this lifetime! Oh dear, here comes trouble," Severus murmured as the shrouding charm fell away from the two pillars of marble, one pure snowy white, the other dark Stygian black, each transfigured from the marble throne Lord Voldemort had brought to the battle and abandoned on his death. Names covered the pillars, picked out in gold lettering, Tom Riddle at the very top of the black pillar and Myrtle Spiewell at the top of the white. Beside each name was a date of death and each name could be brought to the eye level of the viewer by speaking it aloud. If a wand was held against any of the names, a picture would appear and a short history of the person, their family and their contribution to the war, good or bad, would be given. The speeches were not slanted or biased but perfectly factual and in many ways completely heartbreaking in their futility. There was a shocked gasp then an up-welling of speculation as Dumbledore took the stage centre and began his dedication speech for all people to hear.

'_We are here to remember the deaths of many good people, friends, colleagues, family members. Some died in tragedy, some in infamy and some in glory, but are all, nevertheless, dead and gone. Their spirits have been removed from the world and from our lives but never from our hearts and minds. Let us not forget the reasons why they died, a difference in ideology or perhaps for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in the last reckoning, they died because people failed to communicate, failed to discuss and compromise and realise that nothing is black and white, nothing is set in stone and nothing is insurmountable, if the parties are willing to really try._

_There can be no brightness without shadows and no dark without light. There can be no heroes without villains and no sacrifice without cause. There can be no great deeds without great needs, and there can be only one winner to write history._

_Let us now write history and remember all of the dead. Remember the folly that led to the greatest self-imposed bloodbath in wizarding history and let us all remember that we, each of us as individuals, are responsible for our own actions. In the future, before we cast Unforgivable Curses at each other, let us remember this day and this war and sit down to listen to each other with an open mind and a willing heart. By showing such willingness, perhaps we can avert a reoccurrence of this tragedy ever touching our loved ones in the future.'_

As he spoke, the words appeared on the marble slabs behind him, etched for all times as a reminder that life was a circle and what was old would be new once again, unless they all learned from their mistakes. In the shadows, the last two Death Eaters exchanged long, knowing looks and prayed the rest of the idiot world would listen.

End

01/07/2007

A Quick Word

Well, that was epic and somewhat draining to get down on paper. I usually hate deadlines but the publishing of Deathly Hallows was my deadline in this, I had to finish before hand so I could read it in good conscience and not subconsciously plagiarise Ms Rowling's work. The other constraints were also of my own making as I always get things back to front and actually wrote Angelinus first, then Muggle, Werewolves, STY and lastly Recon.

When writing Angelinus it was easy enough to say, 'Oh, they're dead so I don't have to mention them' but then, as the ideas for stories grew, I had to kill off some characters I really enjoyed, the twins, Nevil and Luna and so on. Of course, other characters that were supposed to be really minor players like Terry and Black Bess have taken on a life of their own and are demanding equal time so Meeting a Muggle may become only one part of a catchall title which is shaping up to be AFTER THE SVW, a collection of novellas and short stories, much as Snape the Younger was. And the twins from Angelinus are sort of demanding an airing too, we'll see.

A couple of buckets of praise and thanks need to be handed out over this story to the people who have made it both fun to write and kept me at it when tossing my hand in was the preferred option. In order they are Venise who took a short story I wrote, mistook the phrase 'Oh Merlin' for another character and basically gave me Roger as well as turned Recon into a novel by pointing out a path I hadn't seen.

The BeST team, a better set of people there are not, international fellow writers, nit-pickers and Brit pickers who actually know what a comma is for and where to put them. Zarathrusta for flow control, Da Wicked Bunjhny who will not allow the use of one word twice in a paragraph and Nathan who won't let me get away with anything less than good English. (Sorry, guy, I know I wrote this without getting it beta-ed, but thems the breaks. LOL)

Last, but certainly not least are those faithful people who actually read the tripe I write, a circumstance that always amazes me. _**FAnfic Names here**_ have followed, commented and encouraged all through this story and the others too and I do thank you for your comments, suggestions and kudos. Your support and encouragement has been invaluable.

Many thanks again, folks, see you next time.

Les the exhausted, but pretty much relieved its all out there.


End file.
